Curiosity
by Max Alleyne
Summary: Curiosity drives Dr. Elena Connelly to take Harvey Dent's case. She didn't realize going into it that he was going to make her question every ethical principle in the books of psychology. Harvey/OC
1. Waking Up

**Author's Note: **So, this is my first Batman Begins/Dark Knight fic. I desperately wanted Harvey to have a happy ending, despite the fact that I knew he wouldn't going into it. This is a Harvey/OC story. I'll try not to make her too obnoxious or Mary-Sueish. Give me feedback, even if you hate it. Let me know what you like, hate, makes you laugh, makes you cry, whatever. But above all, enjoy.

* * *

Harvey Dent awoke to the sound of voices. They weren't clear, the way they should sound, but muffled, as though he had cotton in his ears. Everything ached all over, but the pain in his left side was excruciating. It was as though fire were being forced through his veins, and was slowly burning it's way out. It was unbearable, but he knew that if he started screaming, he would never stop, so he bit the inside of his good cheek and listened.

"What are we supposed to do with him? We can't just release him on an unsuspecting public. They're going to want the same old Harvey Dent back. The good all-American boy who gave rousing speeches and was incorruptible is gone. What do we have left to give them? Giving them a broken Harvey Dent is worse than giving them a dead one!"

"Well, we have to give them something! Too many people saw him at that crime scene to just cover it all up. Besides, do that, and we're just as bad as the people we're supposed to be fighting. Being a police officer is about fighting crime, and right now, the people of Gotham need somewhere to put their trust. Batman is gone. We have to give them something."

The two voices were very familiar, and that bothered Harvey. He hated that the voices were familiar and he couldn't recognize them. That actually bothered him more than the fact that one of them referred to him as 'broken.' He should have been bothered by that fact. He wasn't broken; his eyes had been opened. He had been an idealist: so eager to rid the world of all those that posed a threat to it. Now, he was a different. He understood the way things were. The world needed balance. Not everything could be sunshine and puppies. Because, after all, day is only appreciated because of night. Good is only recognized as being such because of evil. Without both sides of the metaphorical coin, the world would cease to exist as we know it.

Harvey slowly pulled his eyes open. Actually, he pulled an eye open…the other had no lid, and looked towards the voices. He was in a small white room, very similar to the one he had been in at Gotham General, only this one had no windows. As he moved to sit up, he was stopped by restraints. He sighed in frustration and, unable to see whoever was talking about him, he listened.

"So we say what? That he can be rehabilitated? That he's suffered some minor personality changes? That would be the understatement of the century. It would have been better off if we had just let him die!"

"Maybe he can be rehabilitated. It's not uncommon for someone to suffer temporary insanity after a traumatic event like this. Fathers kill the men responsible for their children's deaths. Husbands kill the person responsible for killing their wives…perhaps he can be."

'Ah,' Harvey thought bitterly, 'I know that voice. The voice of the ever-optimistic James Gordon.' Fate, it seemed, had saved Gordon. It was an unfair decision on Fate's part, but since when had that ever mattered? It was unfair that his beautiful, charming Rachel was dead and he got two chances. Was he not the one that had gone after the mob, taken the fight to them? And somehow, Rachel suffered the consequences. It was unfair.

"And if he can't be? What are we to do about that?" the other voice asked.

"Look, Doctor Connelly is the best in the field. If anyone could rehabilitate him, it's her. Give her a chance. Then we'll deal with everything else."

"I haven't even met this woman, and you're expecting me to hang all my hope of Harvey Dent's miraculous recovery on her? You'll forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical." Harvey finally recognized the other voice. Mayor Garcia…it figures that he would be looking after his own ass. Ridiculous eye-liner wearing, ass-covering prick.

"We're doing this for her safety. The fewer people that see her, or Harvey, the better. Just because people were after him before…before his injuries doesn't mean they're not going to keep coming if they know where he is. After all, they don't know that he's…out of his mind. And if they did know, there are plenty of people who wouldn't want to see Harvey Dent rehabilitated. We can't risk her safety," Gordon explained.

Harvey had never heard of this 'Dr. Connelly,' but he was already thinking that she was an ass-covering idiot, too. Doctor-patient confidentiality was all fine and well, but she wasn't going to be able to 'rehabilitate' him. There was nothing that needed rehabilitating. He was living free of the confines of right and wrong, and there was no place for someone who was going to cling to those rules here. He was absolutely fine.

"Well, you had best start thinking of contingency plans, Commissioner, because if this doesn't work, and it isn't handled properly, the entire thing is going to blow up in our faces. Do you understand?"

"Of course. However, you have to know that this is more important than you getting re-elected. This is about giving the people of Gotham hope in a better—"

"And finding out that the mayor and the police commissioner are covering up Harvey Dent's insanity isn't going to destroy their hopes?!"

"He is going to be alright. Give Dr. Connelly a chance to do her job!"

"How do you know that he isn't going to flip his coin and decide to off her, too?"

"We have taken plenty of precautions. Now, please, sir, go back to your office and stop worrying about this. I'm going to be checking up on him regularly, but until I have something good to report, the less you know, the better. At least that way, you can honestly say that you don't know," Gordon said. Hearing this, Harvey smiled. Even after all that had happened, some things would never change. Garcia would always cover his own ass at the expense of everyone else, and Gordon would always be willing to go through with something at his own expense.

He heard the sharp _click-click _of a woman's heels on hard tile floor. He remembered Rachel coming home at night and hearing the same sound as she had walked through the kitchen. Thinking of her, a wave of the deepest sadness overtook him. The fire that was being forced through his veins was comfort in comparison to the sharp, stabbing pain in his heart. Rachel…his beautiful Rachel…

"Commissioner, it's good to see you again."

"I just wish the circumstances were a little different," Gordon said.

"Don't we all. But we have to do the best we can with what we have," a woman's voice said.

"Well, it seems that you're the best we have. What can you do with Harvey Dent?"

"He hasn't been lucid long enough for me to speak with him yet, but as soon as he is, I'll begin treatment. Come to my office and we'll discuss it." He definitely didn't like her. A new voice was here, talking with Gordon. It was a woman's voice. It wasn't light and soft, like he would always remember Rachel's. It was lower, harder, and definitely business-like. So this was Dr. Connelly, Harvey realized. Well, she could try whatever treatment she liked, but he was beyond her rules, and it would all be useless. He had discovered what it meant to be truly fair, and he wasn't going to let anyone ruin that for him.

* * *

Thirty-six hours earlier, Dr. Elena Connelly had been propped up in bed, horrified and fascinated as she watched the news, when she got a call from the new police commissioner. Calls like these weren't a very common occurrence for her, mostly because she had refused on several occasions to work with the police. The Gotham police department was full of corruption, and she wasn't going to ruin her professional reputation by working with a corrupt police force. Needless to say, she had been slightly surprised when James Gordon called at 1:13 in the morning to request a meeting with her.

"Commissioner, you know that I don't work with the police. I've been through this several times with you—"

"This is a little bit different. I would like to meet with you, if that is alright. To further discuss this," Gordon had said.

"I don't even know what we're discussing. I would prefer to have some details before I go walking into this blindly—"

"Dr. Connelly, this is very sensitive information, and I would prefer to speak with you in person about it. It is also very urgent. Please, I need to speak with you. It is of utmost importance to a lot of people."

Elena sighed. He was quiet adamant, and it couldn't hurt to find out what he wanted. Well, it could, but she had met Gordon several times, and he was a good man. That alone was the reason she would meet with him. Not to mention, she never got calls from police commissioners at 1:13 in the morning, and that had her curiosity piqued.

"Fine. When and where is convenient for you?" she asked.

"I'll…meet you at your office in half an hour"

"Half an hour?"

"It's urgent, Dr. Connelly. I'll see you then."

"Of course."

Elena struggled into a pair of yoga pants and a sweater. It was dark, so hopefully, no one would see her entering her office in such unprofessional attire. Then again, it was 1:13—now, 1:15 in the morning. If he had wanted her clad in something other than loungewear, he should have called at a more decent hour. She quickly tucked her red hair into a beret and headed to her office.

Normally, in traffic, it would have been a beastly forty five minute drive. Given the obnoxiously late hour, however, the roads were deserted and she made it in fifteen. James Gordon was waiting for her outside her office, his face grim. With all the Joker nonsense, she could understand that. Hordes of people had tried to leave Gotham this afternoon, and the police had cordoned off the tunnels and the bridges. The rush to the ferries had been so tremendous, she had decided that perhaps it was best to wait it out, armed with her 9mm, in the relative safety of her house.

After everything that had gone on with the ferries, she was very glad that she had chosen to stay home. The Joker had apparently been apprehended, and would soon be safely in Arkham Asylum where he belonged. Her chances of being blown to bits or having her face sliced from ear to ear have decreased considerably, or so she hoped. Hopefully, Gordon was about to tell her that she didn't have to worry. But she also had a feeling that he was going to be telling her something else, and that had her very curious.

"Dr. Connelly, thank you for agreeing to see me," Gordon greeted her. She quickly unlocked her office and they stepped inside. She sat behind her mahogany desk, and he pulled up a chair across from her.

"Well, when you call me urgently at 1:13 in the morning, I get very, very curious. What is it that could possibly be so important?" she asked.

"You are aware that Harvey Dent sustained extreme burns in an explosion late last night?"

"Of course. Everyone in Gotham knows that. He was in critical condition in the burn unit at Gotham General…until the Joker blew it sky high."

"Right. Well…I'm going to need you to take a look at some photos. They're grisly, I'm warning you." Gordon said, sliding some photos across the table. She picked them up and studied them, horror written all over her face. Harvey Dent's face was completely burned away on the left side. The skin that remained was bright red or charred black. The pain had to be unbearable.

"Oh my God…they didn't do skin grafts? It's dangerous to leave someone in this kind of condition. Burns get infected so easily…"

"He refused to accept any skin grafts or pain medication."

"It's amazing that he's even conscious. He's got to be in extreme physical pain. Given that Rachel Dawes was killed, he's also probably in extreme emotional pain. Good Lord, they should have gotten a court order or something. You can do that. Claim that he's not in the proper condition to make medical decisions for himself or something. Poor man," Elena said as she ran her fingers across the photos.

"Well, that 'poor man' killed several people. He determined whether or not they lived or died based on the flip of a coin. He took my family and held my son at gun point, and determined whether or not he would live or die based on chance. There is no way that he's sane—"

"And you want me to work with him?"

"No one can know what Dent did. No one can know that he has completely gone off his rocker and killed several people. The people of Gotham need their hero, and Harvey Dent was that man. We have to find some way to give them Harvey Dent back."

"What about Batman?"

Gordon sighed, obviously unhappy that she had brought up that question. "The Batman…He has been blamed for the crimes of Harvey Dent. It was his idea. He said that Gotham needed their hero, and he was right. They need a hero with a face, even if it is just half a face. We need you to rehabilitate him, and we need you to keep it under wraps. Is that something that you can do? I know you normally don't work with the Gotham PD, but you're the best in your field. You're also known for your militant adherence to the ethical codes of psychology. Is this something that you can do?" Gordon's voice was pleading.

Elena didn't have to stop of consider. This was fascinating. She had seen many people driven to madness by grief, but none to the extent that Harvey Dent had gone. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Most of her work was boring and mundane; this was a chance to do something that was going to affect several. Not to mention...she was curious as hell. She had a chance to rehabilitate Gotham's hero…and she was going to do her damndest.

"I can't guarantee that I can rehabilitate him. I mean, from what you've told me, half of it is whether or not he wants to be rehabilitated, and I can't fore that on him. I'll start seeing him as soon as possible, but I want you to know going into this that I may not be able to give you the Harvey Dent that you want."

"Dr. Connelly, you are the best chance we have at giving Gotham a Harvey Dent that was even remotely close to the man he used to be. If this doesn't work…I don't know what we'll do, but we'll think of something."

"Right. Well, I guess that I'll start seeing him as soon as possible then. Let's talk about where he's going to have to stay…"

* * *

Now, thirty-six hours later, Elena Connelly was walking with Gordon back into her office. It looked warmer in the day light than it had that when he had first seen it. The walls were a warm green, and all the furniture was a deep mahogany. She looked perfectly at home in her office, like she was born to be there. Somehow, she also managed to make Gordon comfortable, too, which was an even bigger feat.

"Now that I've had a chance to study the information that you gave me a bit more closely, I think that I'll have a pretty good place to start. Obviously, I can't tell you exactly how I plan to treat him due to doctor/patient confidentiality, but I can promise that I will do the best I can to getting him…healthy again," Elena explained.

"Alright. Well…can I stop by and visit him on occasion? I understand that you're not allowed to tell me certain things, but can I come see him…monitor his progress that way?"

"Give me a few weeks before you come by. Let me see what I can do in that time."

"Alright. I'll call before I come by, anyway. Thank you for doing this. The people of Gotham—"

"Don't peg me as a hero. I have to admit that a large part of why I'm taking this case is because I'm curious as hell about what's going on in that man's head. There are quite a lot of things I'm curious about, Commissioner. Like, how you intend to let our District Attorney disappear and then produce him a few months later with no one being the least be suspicious."

"His suffering from severe burns, and the trauma associated with that. We'll come up with something."

"I hope so."

"We're going to get things right. After all, we've tried doing it the wrong way, and that didn't work—" Gordon was interrupted when his pager went off. "I'm sorry to leave so abruptly, but I have to run—"

"Understandable. Let me see you out." She escorted him to the front door of her office.

"Thanks again for your help, Dr. Connelly." She just nodded as he got into his car and drove away quickly. Elena sighed and went back to her office. This case was probably a very bad idea. Her gut was telling her that she definitely shouldn't have taken this case. She didn't take criminal cases, despite the fact that she had been damn good at it.

She walked back into her office to ponder the mess she had gotten herself into. To call it an office was probably not an extreme understatement. Arkham Asylum was not the only institution in Gotham. No, Arkham was generally reserved for the criminally insane or those too poor to afford anything else. Elena Connelly's 'office' was one of the older institutions on the island. She didn't actually use any of the old patient rooms. Not usually, anyway.

She hadn't lied to James Gordon, not entirely. She was damn curious about what was going on in the monstrously disfigured head of Harvey Dent. However, she was also fascinated. How could a man with so much determination to live right simply collapse into madness? Yes, he had suffered an extreme loss, but that usually only made someone more intent on catching and 'punishing' those responsible. Instead, he had turned to chaos, and somehow faced chaos with an extreme order. It was fascinating and baffling all at the same time.

"Yeah, this one is definitely going to bite you in the ass, Elena," she whispered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door of Harvey Dent's room.

He lay in his bed, restrained by wide straps across his chest and arms. Half of his face was still the chiseled, beautiful face that it once was. The other half was, well, practically gone. Despite the fact that his good eye was still closed, she could tell that he was awake.

"Mr. Dent?" she said, trying to get some kind of response from him. He lay there, eye still closed, in stony silence. She tried again. "Mr. Dent?" Still nothing.

"Mr. Dent, I know you're awake, so you might as well sit up and talk to me. I'm Dr. Elena Connelly."

Upon hearing her full name, he opened his eye and looked her over from head to toe. She knew that he probably wasn't all that impressed. She wasn't exactly the ideal image of a psychiatrist, she knew this. She was only five feet tall, and slender, but muscular. He could tell she worked out, because her pencil skirt showcased her muscled legs very well. He hadn't gotten a look at her butt yet, because the lab coat got in the way, but he imagined it was every bit as firm as her legs. Her glasses had thick black square frames, and her hair was pulled up in a severe bun. If it weren't for the lab coat, he would have thought her a librarian.

"I've heard of you. You're a shrink," he said, his voice full of disgust.

"I'm a psychiatrist, yes. Do you know why you're here?"

"Of course I do. I decided whether or not a person should live based on the flip of a coin. By the standards of society, that makes me insane."

"That would make us question your mental stability, yes. But you know as well as I do that you could be perfectly normal if you wanted."

"Perfectly normal? With a face like this? I don't think so," he said. There was no anger in his voice when he spoke of his face, just a sick sense of humor. He even managed a literal half-smile.

"Excuse my choice of wording. Mentally, you could be as normal as everyone else. Instead, you chose to kill people based on the flip of a coin. That hardly seems fair," she commented.

"No, see, that's where you're wrong. The flip of a coin is perfectly unbiased. It is the only truly fair way to decide things. Everything else in this world is affected by our human frailties. Not a coin."

"No, you're coin isn't affected by human frailties, but what you choose to do with it is. You say that it is the only fair thing in this world…I have a question for you—"

"Of course you do, Doc. We all have questions. What's the meaning of life? Why does the Mona Lisa smile? Who took the cookie from the cookie jar?" Harvey cut her off.

"I was thinking something a little more personal. You chose who lived and died based on the toss of coin. You didn't choose the people that way. Why not?"

Harvey was silent for a moment. He knew that this woman was trying to play mind games with him, and as determined as he was not to play along, he was curious. There was something about this librarian-doctor that made him want to play her game and beat her at it. She was so smug, like she had all the answers. Well, she didn't, and he was going to let her know as much.

"They deserved to be punished."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Chance said they got to live."

"But you just said that they deserved to be punished. And yet, some of them got off. If they deserved to be punished, why would your coin let them go free? That's hardly fair, don't you think. Your coin, it seems, made an unfair ruling," she said to him. Her voice was businesslike, but he also detected a hint of something else in it…it reminded him of how Rachel sounded when she told him something work related while they were in the bedroom. There was a hint of laughter underlying the businesslike tone. It was less attractive on Dr. Elena Connelly, he thought.

"That's just something for you to ponder," Elena said as she stood. Harvey stared at her, hatred written on his face. She just smiled at him pleasantly and left the room. He listened until the click of her heels faded away before yelling as he strained against his restraints.


	2. Beneficence and Nonmaleficence

**Author's Note:** Here is the second chapter. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Feel free to tell what you dislike, like, all that sort of thing. Critical reviews are great. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Elena sat in her office, trying to think of a new way to get inside Harvey Dent's head. He was more than willing to explain that a coin was fair, and it seemed that the whole of his newfound existence rested on that idea. Elena found herself caught between a rock and a hard place, because things could definitely go one of two ways: a) she manages to convince him that his fair coin isn't going to help him muddle through an unfair world and he is cured, or b) she convinces him that he coin isn't going to help him and he goes completely over the edge. As a psychiatrist, she has to focus on the well-being of her patients, but never has she had a patient that was so unpredictable before. If she could just perhaps understand him a bit better, maybe she could come to pinpoint his reactions better…

There had never been a patient like Harvey Dent. Ever. No one was as unpredictable or frustrating to her as he was. From what she had read in his file, he didn't seem to have any qualms about losing his own life, but then he also had a desire to punish those that he believed play a role in Rachel Dawes's death. She knew that he blamed himself. He blamed himself, he blamed Gordon, and he blamed Batman. He never mentioned the Joker…not that she could blame him. She didn't really want to talk about that madman, either. Perhaps that was why he didn't care whether he lived or died. Because he believed that if he died, it would be fair punishment for his supposed part in Rachel's death. She jotted a noted about that on her notepad…Rachel Dawes and that coin were definitely the keys to unlocking the mind of Harvey Dent, and she was determined that she would be the woman to do so.

She remembered what her favorite professor from grad school had told her. "When you're stuck, just keep your pen moving and see what comes out," he had said. So that's exactly what she did. She let her pen move over the paper, and all the questions and thoughts that she had about Harvey Dent just came pouring out. Where did the coin come from? Why did he go into law? How does he feel about letting all his hard work go to waste? If the world was unfair then why even try at all?

When she finally stopped writing, she stopped and looked at everything that was written on the paper. She circled any questions that she thought might be relevant and then put them in order from most important to least important. Then, she elaborated on the questions that she thought might get her the most response. Understanding Dent was going to be key. Before she could do anything else, she had to understand what was going on inside his head…well, understand it the best she could, anyway.

Her cell phone beeped, reminding her that she had an appointment with another client in fifteen minutes. It was Allison, an obsessive-compulsive mother of three who believed that by organizing the cereal boxes in the grocery store, she was saving her children from some impending doom. She had been meeting with Allison for three months now, and she knew that she was going to be bored through the whole session. Normally, she wouldn't be. Normally, this case would be something of great interest to her, but she couldn't get the idea that Harvey Dent and his fascinating brain were right upstairs.

Allison arrived promptly at four, the last appointment of the day. She sat down on the other side of Elena's desk, and answered all of Elena's questions. They went over her diary, and Elena gave her a "homework assignment": walk into the grocery store and buy bread without reorganizing the cereal boxes. Throughout the whole thing, Elena was ridiculously distracted. Harvey Dent, the white knight of Gotham, was upstairs, and she was down here with Allison, who was going to be just fine. In her head, she cursed herself for her unprofessional thoughts. She shouldn't be focusing on one patient at the expense of another.

'Yes,' she thought. 'This case definitely is going to get me in trouble.'

Allison left promptly at five. Elena saw her to the door, and then began packing up to return home. She grabbed her patient files and tucked them into her bag, before heading upstairs for one final check in on Harvey. He was still lying in bed, strapped down. There were no windows in his room, but there were definitely objects that he could hurt himself with, and she didn't want to take that chance. There was a security camera in the room, which allowed her to see what he was doing at any given moment, but that still wouldn't help her if he decided to do something drastic, like hang himself with a bed sheet.

There was a guard stationed outside his room. It was one of Gordon's people. She hadn't expected Gordon to send her a female guard, but he did. She was his niece, apparently. She seemed like a nice enough girl, and 'girl' was definitely a proper description. There was no way that she was a day older than twenty three. Pretty quiet, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It just meant that she wasn't very likely to leave and go tell anyone that she was guarding Harvey Dent at the mental hospital, which suited Elena just fine.

"I'm about to head home. Any change?" Elena asked, gesturing to Dent's room.

"Nope. He's been pretty quiet all day, except right after you left. He yelled for a couple minutes before figuring out that it wasn't accomplishing anything," she replied, her voice quiet.

"Okay, well…someone's coming to relieve you, right…?"

"Yeah. They'll be here in a few minutes. Don't worry about it. Go one home."

"Thanks again…I'm sorry, can you give me your name one more time?" Elena asked, her tone full of apology. Normally she wasn't terrible with names, but today was just one of those days.

"Barbara, but everyone calls me Babs. Keeps everyone from confusing me with my aunt at family dinners."

"Right. Babs…I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Bright and early, I'll be here."

Elena smiled at the girl and quickly left the office. The drive home through the five o'clock traffic wasn't a terrible one, probably because her mind was elsewhere, just as it had been all day long. Harvey Dent.

"Elena, you have always prided yourself on your professional ethics. You are not going to give up everything that you built your career on just because of him. You're going to rehabilitate this guy and be done with it. You're going to treat him like every other criminal that you used to treat, and it's going to be business as usual," she said to herself, pulling into her drive way. She quickly gathered her things and went inside.

Her house was dark, and she quickly flipped on the nearest light switch. Needless to say, it was quite a shock when she turned on the light to find Batman standing in her living room, studying her diploma. She dropped everything she was holding and managed to break her glass coffee table.

Batman was already a pretty intimidating idea without seeing him in person. Meeting him in person, he was more intimidating than she could have imagined. Slightly over six feet, she could tell that he was solid muscle. Yeah, definitely very intimidating.

"Dr. Elena Connelly?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

"Yes?"

"You're treating Harvey Dent, correct?"

"Yes, I am."

"He was in love with Rachel Dawes—"

"That's usually the case, when two people are dating. Unless you're dating Bruce Wayne, though, I don't think the term 'dating' really applies to what he does."

"I don't think that you grasp the seriousness of the situation. The fate of Gotham rests on you being able to rehabilitate this man. My reputation is shot; they need someone that they can believe in. Someone with a face, even if it is as disfigured as Harvey Dent's."

"I'm aware of this," she said, her voice very serious. "I take my job very seriously, and I'm very aware of the consequences of not being able to help Mr. Dent. However, half the battle is understanding him, and that's going to be a complicated process."

"He was driven mad by grief. How hard is that to understand? He lost the person that he loved most in this world and it drove him to madness."

"That was the catalyst, yes. However, I find that with criminals, they rarely do something that they weren't capable of doing beforehand. They've normally entertained the idea, and this event is what drives them to try it," she explained. Batman was silent for a long moment before speaking.

"After the parade…the memorial service for Loeb, he had gotten a hold of one of the Joker's men. He was a paranoid schizophrenic that had been in and out of Arkham for the past few years. Dent was wanting answers, and I found him alone with the man, pressing a gun to his forehead, threatening to shoot him with the flip of a coin…"

Elena smiled. This was just one more bit of information that she could use to unravel the knot of Dent's mind. She whipped out a pen and a pad and jotted the whole thing down, stopping to ask again for the finer points of the story. Batman willingly provided details, which was of great help.

"Thank you, for this. It's going to be very helpful," she told him. He just nodded tersely. "And you know you owe me for the table, right?" she said playfully as she turned her back to set down her pad and pen. When she turned back around after setting the pad down, he was gone. She was hardly surprised. After all, he had to appear and disappear all the time now, so she imagined it was nothing new. She spent the rest of the evening doing her more mundane work: reviewing files for her less interesting patients, reviewing copies of Allison's journal, that sort of thing. Then, she worked out, fixed herself dinner, took a shower and was in bed by 10:30 with a book she had been wanting to read for months. She was asleep ten minutes later, and her dreams were plagued with bats and burns.

* * *

Harvey Dent didn't sleep well. He was used to sleeping on his side with Rachel tucked up against him…Rachel was dead, and the straps kept him from turning on his side…the burns did, too, a bit. So instead of sleep, he pondered Dr. Elena Connelly. He knew who she was. He had personally called more than once to try to convince her to examine various members of the Falcone crime family, but she had always decline, claiming that she valued her own life too highly to risk it for a corrupt system.

Her question reverberated in his mind. _If some of them deserved to be punished, why did your coin let them go free? _ In his mind, he knew that she was right, that there were things that couldn't and shouldn't be decided at the flip of a coin, but that was fair. That was the only way to be fair in this unfair world. Fairness was the most important thing in this world, especially when the world was so unfair.

Mostly he thought of the smug expression on her face when she had come to speak to him. She acted like she had all the answers, like she was going to be able to 'fix' him. He knew for a fact that she didn't have all the answers, because he didn't have all the answers, not that he would ever admit it to her. There were still so many questions that he couldn't answer, or didn't. Anything pertaining to Rachel…it hurt his soul just to recall her face, just to think of her light being extinguished…nothing about that would ever be fair…

Tears flowed down his cheeks, burning the disfigured half of his face. Rachel was gone, and there was nothing to lighten the darkness of this existence. There was just this: day after day of being the fallen hero of Gotham, stuck listening to Elena Connelly's stupid questions and trying to dodge them with witty answers. Life was bleak…but it didn't have to be…accept that he didn't have his coin…how to decide, how to decide…?

Eventually, after pondering her questions for quite some time, and trying to decide how to decide…well, he fell asleep, and he dreamt of auburn haired librarians and books about pennies.

When he awoke, breakfast was waiting for him on a table in his room. It was going to be rather difficult to eat, however, because he was still strapped down. His stomach was growling, and he wasn't about to wait on Doc to come around to talk to him before he got to eat anything, so he used the only instrument available to him: his voice. He yelled, knowing that someone had to be around to hear him. Sure enough, he was right. After a few minutes or so, a young girl entered.

"What do you need?" she asked, her voice brisk.

"I can't eat if I'm strapped to a bed."

"Very true. But, before we do anything, I have to remind you…there are two options here: you can cooperate and I'll unstrap you, or you don't cooperate, in which I'll have to feed you. Now, your cooperation is going to make this much easier on both of us, and you get to maintain your dignity. What's it going to be?"

He stared at her for a moment, taken aback by how up front she was. She didn't bother to play games, she just said what she wanted…that was refreshing, especially give the way that Doc liked to ask questions that didn't seem to have good answers. He liked this girl…well, better than Doc, anyway.

"I'd prefer to feed myself, thanks." The girl smiled and undid his straps. "What's your name?"

"You can call me Babs."

"Babs? Like…Barbara?"

"Like, Babs."

And with that, she's gone. He ate his breakfast in silence, or, at least tried to eat it. It took him a while to get the hang of things, because half the food didn't want to stay in his mouth, which made eating extremely uncomfortable and difficult. Halfway through his meal, he felt like giving up, but then he realized that his shrink would probably ask him even more questions about that, so he finished the meal. It was actually pretty good.

Half an hour after he finished, he could hear the click-clacking of heels on the tile, and he knew that Doc was coming to pay him a visit. She opened the door, and despite his dislike of her, he had to admit, she looked…lovely this morning. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that hugged all the right curves, and red peep toe pumps…Rachel had loved heels…

"How are you this morning, Mr. Dent?" she asked, her voice more subdued than yesterday.

"The same, I suppose," he said, his voice annoyed.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Not really, you?"

"The same."

"You slept badly? You mean to tell me that you can't just rationalize your problems away?" Harvey asked. She smiled tiredly.

"It's not quite that simple. You're an…interesting man, Mr. Dent, and I've been given the…opportunity to treat you, and I'm trying to get this right."

"I don't need treatment, there's nothing wrong with me. I've had my eyes opened, that's all."

"You say that your way, your coin, is the only fair way to live in this unfair world, correct?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think I made that pretty clear, Doc."

"I understand that you don't particularly care for me. Why is that?"

"Because you're smug, like you have all the answers in the world, when I know that you don't," he answered before he could think of a reason not to.

"And you didn't need your coin to make that judgment. Did you use your coin to decide to love Rachel Dawes?"

"Don't you say her name! You're not to speak of her," he yelled the minute that her question was finished.

"Let me ask you a series of questions—"

"You've been doing that since you walked in the room."

"If you had to choose who would live and who would die, between Carmine Falcone and Rachel Dawes…who would live?"

"Rachel, of course."

"Rachel and James Gordon."

"Are you serious? Rachel."

"Myself and Rachel."

"Rachel. It will always be Rachel. I would choose her over anyone."

"Without the assistance of your coin."

"Of course. Rachel was a good person. She was doing so much good—"

"So was—is James Gordon. Some would say that I do good. You certainly did. What makes all of us so different from her?"

"I loved her, that's what makes her different!" he yelled, his face contorted with hate for his psychologist.

"You would never risk her life on the flip of coin. Why can't you give the rest of the population that same treatment? Everyone is someone's Rachel. I'm someone's Rachel—"

"Who do you go home to at night?"

"My personal life is none of your concern. It doesn't affect your treatment. The point is, everyone has someone that loves them. James Gordon has a wife and children, as you very well know. Even Carmine Falcone had people who loved him. What gives you the right to risk their lives with the flip of coin?" Elena asked, her voice pensive.

"Because my coin is fair? Which part of fair did you not understand?"

"You chose your victims, and the coin decide if they lived or died. You don't flip a coin over the fate of every person you meet. You think that you're free of the consequences of human frailty, but you aren't. You continue to let your opinion of a person decide their fate, you just do it in a different way than you used to. Instead of appealing to a jury to do it for you, you have taken the law into your own hands, and you can't do that."

"Before the Joker came to town, the people of Gotham applauded the Batman for it."

"And if I recall, you were amongst them. But he doesn't kill people, have you noticed that? He isn't murdering them, he's turning them over to the courts, for their fate to be decided. You could do that. That's what Rachel would want you to do—"

"Don't you tell me what she would want! You don't know what she would want!"

"Anyone with common sense would know that she sure as hell wouldn't want you flying off the handle and killing people, that's for damn sure!" Elena snapped at him, her composure completely gone. She stopped and took a few breaths, trying to calm herself. This was most unprofessional behavior, and she was hating herself for it. She also knew from the look on Dent's face, that he was taking great pleasure in knowing that he definitely was getting some enjoyment out making her lose her temper.

"Do you know the five ethical principles of psychology, Harvey?"

"Can't say that I do, Doc."

"The first principle is the principle of beneficence and nonmaleficence. Basically, it means that I'm not allowed to harm you, physically or psychologically, and that I cannot let my personal beliefs interfere with your treatment…you're not exactly making it easy to follow this principle, Mr. Dent. My answers are logical, and try as you might, you cannot negate logic. I know that you're a logical man, because you understand the ideas of what is fair and what is unfair. You're clinging to a broken, system. Let it go, and you're free. Free of this place, free to mourn Rachel properly…but cling to that, and you're stuck here," she said.

Harvey just stared at her for a moment, contemplating her words. He knew that she was right. Her logic was right, but he wasn't ready to let go of his coin, of his principles of fairness. The world was so crazy and chaotic these days, that it was so easy to let someone—some_thing_, rather—else make the decisions for him. But she was right, damnit, and he didn't want her to be. He had wanted to beat her at her own game, and he couldn't…she had rendered his coin useless. She had torn his principles apart, and he didn't know what exactly he was going to cling to. Instead, he collapsed back in his bed and refused to look at her.

"Harvey, I know that things are chaotic in this world, but we just have to do the best we can muddling through. I went to school for…a very long time to teach me to muddle through things, and I can help you. You just have to let me. When you're ready to let me help you, I'll be here," she told him, her voice soothing. Then she rose and left the room.

She knew that she should feel some sense of triumph, like she had accomplished something, but instead, she was remembering the look of loss on his face. It hurt her to her core, and made her more fascinated still, because she knew that if he let her help him, she would come to understand even more, what a complex man Harvey Dent really was.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, there you have it! I hope you liked it. If not, let me know why.


	3. Fidelity and Responsibility

**Author's Note:** Here is the next chapter for your reading pleasure. Read and review, please!

* * *

After weeks and weeks of sessions with Harvey, Elena was starting to feel like they might be making some progress. He was still hostile, but he was talking less about his coin and fairness and more about how much he thought she was a smug little…well, that would be inappropriate. He was not cured by any stretch of the means, but Elena had hope that she could do so.

The problem, however, was that in her eagerness to help Harvey Dent, she was forgetting about all her other patients. Okay, so "forget" wasn't really the proper term, because she didn't really forget them. She just seemed to…pay less attention to their needs, which was highly unprofessional. She scolded herself for her negligence, and swore that she would change it, but then…she never did. She could tell herself that she was doing this for the good of the people of Gotham and the good she was doing for all those people outweighed the bad that she was doing to the rest of her patients…not that she was being bad to them, she was just…doing less good.

Either way, having Harvey Dent around wasn't doing good things for her. Despite how much she tried, her fascination with the man was beginning to affect her work, and that was unacceptable to her. She had a reputation within the professional community for always being attentive and gracious to her clients. Harvey Dent was causing her to waiver in that aspect. When James Gordon called to check on Dent's progress, she told him this.

"He is making progress. He despises me, but, I think it's mostly because of the fact that I spend day in and day out attacking the basis of his existence," she said over the phone.

"Do you think I'll be able to see him anytime soon?"

"He's being fairly reasonable about some things. He knows that if he acts up he's going to be here longer. Oddly enough, he's taken a liking to your niece. I don't know if that's a comfort to you or not, but that's the way things are," Elena said matter-of-factly.

"She could handle herself against him," Gordon answered. Elena could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"Well, if you want to come for a visit, I think that might be okay."

"Perfect. I'll be out late tonight…around ten. Is that—"

"That will be fine. I'll be here."

After hanging up, Elena went upstairs to Dent's room. Babs was standing outside, looking bored. Elena smiled at her and stopped to talk before entering the room.

"Your uncle is coming out tonight to see Mr. Dent. How does that sit with you?"

"That would be nice. Since all this mess started with the Joker and Batman and Dent, he hasn't been home before nine. It's sad. The kids don't really get to see him much anymore."

"You live with them?"

"No. I live next door. I usually eat dinner with them when I can. It's sucks to eat dinner alone all the time, you know?" Babs said.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean," Elena answered. All her meals were eaten alone. Everyday before leaving for the office, she worked out, showered, ate a breakfast of Raisin Bran, and made herself a ham sandwich on rye, which she would take into the office. She knew all about loneliness, though she would never admit it so frankly.

"Let's see how our patient takes the news, shall we?" Elena opened the door to see Harvey sitting in a chair, looking out the window. When she had first bought the building to use as her office, she had thought about having all the bars removed from the windows, but then after the crime rate had shot through the roof, she had thought it best to leave them on. They were pretty handy now, considering that she had an actual patient that was in-house.

The light shining through the window highlighted the good side of his face, though it had been a long time since Elena had thought of it as the 'good side' of his face. Now it was…well, it was the right side of his face. His disfigurement really didn't mean that much to her anymore. Not the way it used to. Before, she had to remind herself not to flinch every time she saw his face. Now…now she accepted that as another part of him. The more time she spent with him, the more she thought that maybe that was how he thought of it, too.

"You're going to have a visitor," she said quietly. He didn't do anything, just sat there, staring out the window. She waited for a few minutes before speaking again. "Mr. Dent, you're going to have a visitor this evening."

"Harvey. Please call me Harvey," he requested, his voice more subdued than she had ever heard it before. It was troubling to her.

"Harvey? What's…what's wrong?"

Some days were harder than others for Harvey Dent. He couldn't fight Doc's logic, and that had been eating at him for the past few weeks. It had made him more snappy than usual when she was in the room, and when she wasn't in it, it made him more reflective. The only problem with being reflective is that the memories he wanted to reflect on were memories of Rachel, and with those memories came a sharp, stabbing pain deep in his chest.

For some reason, the thoughts were worse today. The sun was out today, the sky blue and cloudless. The sun hadn't been out like this since before…before Rachel passed. The very world itself had been in mourning for her. But the world, it seemed, had moved on. It had moved on left him here, wondering what was to become of him. He longed for the comfort of his coin. He wanted someone else to make the decisions for him, but Doc wasn't going to allow that. Instead, all he could do was cling to what was being offered to him: her logic.

He didn't hate her because she won; he didn't like her because he lost. Everything had been easier when he had let the coin make his decisions for him. Life was painful, and he didn't always get the revenge that he had wanted, but for those few brief hours, he had clarity. There was a sort of mad, brilliant, beautiful clarity in it all, and it was gone. It left him in a vacuum, unsure of what to do or how to act. And everything seemed to hit him today, at once, very, very hard.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Doc when she came in. She pulled him from his reverie with a simple statement: "You're going to have a visitor." Instead of having the hope that he once would have had, a hope that someone that actually loved him was coming, he was further reminded that no such person existed. He was alone in this world, and the solitude was killing him.

"Mr. Dent, you're going to have a visitor this evening," she said again.

"Harvey. Please call me Harvey." At least this way it would seem more personal, like she actually cared.

"Harvey? What's…what's wrong?" For the first time since he had spoken to her, she sounded unsure, like she didn't have all the answers. He should have felt triumphant, but he didn't. Instead, he just felt a deep sadness.

"The world was grieving for her…for us. And now they've all moved on," he whispered, feeling his heart break as he said the words.

"Everyone moves on. You have to, it's part of life," Doc said, her voice still had an edge of insecurity to it.

"If I move on, it's like I've forgotten her. Like I don't care that she's gone."

"No…that's not it at all. You do her a disservice by not moving on. Was loving her so terrible that you don't want to give it another go?" Doc's voice was hoarse with emotion, something that was odd for her.

"Loving her was wonderful…but then I lost her…"

"Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote "It is better to have loved and lost—"

"Well, Lord Tennyson was an idiot who had obviously never been there."

"Actually, he had. The poem was called "In Memoriam." He wrote it for Arthur Henry Hallum, a friend who had died. Many scholars speculated as to the nature of their relationship." Doc knew her facts, but her voice was still timid.

"Doc, how do you know these things?"

"The Tennyson? It was one of my grandfather's favorite poems, and I inherited all his books when he passed away."

"No, I mean, about it getting easier."

"Well, I guess I see it like this. You're at rock bottom now, so you've got no where to go but up."

"What if I don't want to go up?" he asked.

"But you do. You wouldn't be so miserable if you didn't…you wouldn't trust a coin for your happiness would you?" she asked. He hesitated, and she rephrased her question. "You wouldn't trust a coin for Rachel's happiness, would you?"

"No."

"Then don't do it to yourself. Every courtesy that she gets, so does everyone else, remember?"

"Yes. There are times when I want so badly to join her, and then other times when I want to live for her, and I can't decide, because it hurts so much to be here. I just want someone else to make that decision for me."

"It will hurt for a long time, and the death of a loved one isn't really something that you ever 'get over' per say. Instead, you learn to live with it. And there will be times that it hurts so much it's overwhelming, but you just have to keep on keeping on," Doc explained. Suddenly, he felt her hand on his shoulder, and he jumped. How had he not heard her crossing the room? She let her hand rest there, comfortingly. He had never thought about how tiny her hands were, but they were quite tiny. Smaller than Rachel's, and calloused. It was strange to feel calluses on hands that normally looked so dainty.

They sat there for a moment in silence, comforting silence. Harvey didn't want to break the silence by turning to look at her because, well, he would have to watch her remind herself not to flinch. All good things must come to an end, he though, and turned to face his doctor. Instead of seeing a face that was calculated to show nothing, he saw that her eyes were filled with tears, compassion on her face, and that didn't change when she saw the monstrous half of his face. It felt nice.

"How do you know all this, Doc?"

"I went to school for years to be able to do all this. Paid tons of money. College, grad school, doctorate work, med school…"

"Med school?"

"Yeah, so that I can prescribe medication."

"So that means you can give me something for the pain?" She smiled at that. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless, and that was something that he had never seen from her before.

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Thank you…now what is this about a visitor?" he asked, trying to find some ground that was familiar.

"Commissioner Gordon is coming to see you, to check on your progress. How does that sound?"

"Like Commissioner Gordon is coming to see me."

"Harvey, you know that's not what I meant. Are you…okay with that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does. I'm your doctor. It is my job to look after your well being. If you don't want to see him, you don't have to."

"No…it's fine. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. This is important to a lot of people—"

"Because you're supposed to be giving them the White Knight of Gotham back. You can't do that. I'll never be that man again," he said, his voice full of tiredness.

"I know that, and that's perfectly okay. I don't need you to be that guy. I just need to make sure that you know the difference between right and wrong, and that you aren't going to go on some killing spree flipping your coin."

"No…Harvey Dent's days of vigilantism are over."

"That's good. That's very good."

"Doc, why'd you give up criminal psychology? You were the best in your field, and then you suddenly decided to give it all up. Why?" He had been asking himself this question ever since he knew she was treating him. As the district attorney, he had done his research, but he had to dig hard to find something on Elena Connelly. She had done a lot of her work with criminals, and then one day, out of the blue, had given it all up. And more shocking, she had tried to cover any traces of her history with it, also.

She was quiet for a long while. For a moment, Harvey thought that she was going to get up and walk out, and he quietly cursed himself for asking the question. But he wanted to know, and he wasn't going to flip coins about things that he really wanted the answers to. Doc had been right when she said that the coin wasn't always fair. Yes, your chances were equal, but equal and fair aren't always the same thing.

"I...There were a few reasons. Mostly, I got tired of coming in day in and day out and listening to people rationalize what they had done. There was this guy, who had brutally murdered this kid, and then he came in and explained it so calmly to me. Just calmly explained to me that everybody dies, and that he was keeping this child from experiencing the—I think his exact words were 'pains of aging.' The kid was eight. I had a niece that was eight at the time, and just couldn't keep looking at photos of kids her age that had been murdered. I think what bothered me the most was that the majority of them weren't insane. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they didn't care. So I quit, and started doing this," she explained, her voice distant. He could tell by the look on her face that she meant every word that had come out of her mouth.

"Are you happy doing this?" he asked, genuinely curious. Here was a woman that could have worked as a privately contracting psychiatrist and made whatever the hell she wanted. Instead, she was working with people who, in comparison to the criminals she had worked with before, were not only boring, but a walk in the park as well.

"Sure," she said, her voice neutral. Harvey wasn't convinced. Years of interrogating people had honed his skills, and he knew when someone was lying.

"You're lying. Isn't that against the rules of psychology or whatever?"

"Yes, it is, but I'm not lying."

"I interrogated people for years. I know when someone is hiding something, and you most definitely are." She was silent again for a long while before answering.

"My mother used to tell me that it is better to leave some things to the imagination."

"I just asked a simple question. I asked if you were happy doing this. You can answer that and still leave plenty to my imagination," he said, his eyes wandering to the tips of her pointy-toed black pumps that screamed "Do me," and back up her form. I just checked out another woman, he thought. He was unsure how he felt about that.

"Then I suppose I should say, I'm not unhappy. How's that for truthful?"

"You're bored doing this. That's why you took my case," he said, realizing the answer to a question that he had long been asking himself.

"A bit, yes. But, it lets me set my own hours and have the freedom that I wouldn't have otherwise, so, it's a fair trade. Your case, however, I did take out of curiosity."

"You know what they say about curiosity…"

"And I would say that I'm not a cat."

"I'm…I'll do my best with Gordon tonight. I know that Rachel's death is not his fault anymore than it's mine. I just…I'll be fine to see him."

"Good. He won't be visiting all the time. He just wants to stop by every now and again to see how you're doing. You're doing remarkably well. If push came to shove, I could release you today. But I think that it would also be better for you if you had a little bit more time to recuperate and rest and focus on how things are going to be in the future. Not to mention, I have to give the commissioner a little bit of time to figure out how exactly to handle your reintroduction to society," Elena explained.

"I don't really mind that."

"That's good," she said with a gentle but heartfelt smile. "I'll have your lunch up in a few minutes. Also…is there anything else that you need?"

"It wouldn't hurt to have something new to read. I finished the last book you brought me," he replied.

"What would you like?"

"Surprise me."

"I shouldn't make this decision for you, but I will, because I'm a sucker," she said, smiling wider. With that she walked from the room, mentally cursing herself, her psych 101 professor's voice echoing through her mind. She wondered how much longer she was going to be able to treat him before she couldn't ignore the Principle of Fidelity and Responsibility anymore.

* * *

She sat in her office, waiting on James Gordon to arrive, and still wondering how she was going to tell him that he was either going to have to find another doctor for Harvey Dent or drastically shorten his timetable on revealing him to the public. Ethically, she simply couldn't treat him anymore. Not with how she…It had been a bad idea to take the case in the first place. She had been curious, fascinated by this man, and now it had somehow managed to turn into something more for her.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She answered it quickly, not thinking to check and see who it was. Batman stepped into her office with no greeting, all billowy cape and black armor.

"Well hello, nice to see you, too," she said smartly.

"You should always check to see who it is before opening the doors. What if I had been a member of the mob, or one of the Joker's men? You would be dead as a doornail," he replied, his voice raspy.

"I get the distinct impression that none of them would knock first. They would just kick in the door and blow me away."

"Only if you're lucky."

"Well, should that happen, wish me luck. Now, I'm thinking that this isn't a social visit, so how can I help you?" she asked.

"Commissioner Gordon is coming by to talk to Harvey Dent. I'd like to be here, just in case things get out of hand."

"They won't. If he had to be, Harvey Dent could be released. He understands right and wrong, and he has recently realized that equal chances and fairness are not the same thing. He is going to be fine."

He studied her office, checking the books that were open and strewn across her desk in way that was very uncharacteristic of the good doctor. They were books with long, fancy titles that ultimately meant "ethics," and certain portions were highlighted. The one that caught his attention was the Principle of Fidelity and Responsibility. Before he managed to read any further, she slammed the book shut. He looked her over, and immediately knew that something was up. Her hair was pulled up in a very sloppy bun; normally, she was the picture of professionalism. She had highlighter stains on her fingers, and her nail polish was chipped from where she had been chewing her nails; normally, she was well manicured and always had clean hands.

"What's going on? Why are you so nervous?"

"That's none of your concern."

"If it concerns Harvey Dent, I think that it is."

"Look, I've done what I was supposed to. I've rehabilitated him. I've given you back your damned white knight, okay? So please, back off," she said, tiredness putting an edge on her tone.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something," Gordon said as he entered her office.

"No, it's nothing at all," Elena answered before Batman could say anything. "Harvey is upstairs, and when I spoke to him this afternoon, he said that he was willing to talk to you. He has made a lot of progress in the past few months. I'm actually willing to consider him rehabilitated."

Gordon's eyes widened. He knew that Elena Connelly was the best, but he hadn't expected these kinds of results. Not this quickly, anyway. Yes, it had been two months, but he hadn't really expected anything this soon. Luckily, he had the media under control, and they knew that Harvey Dent was seeking grief counseling and help for his extensive burns.

"Good work, Dr. Connelly. May I see him now?"

"Of course." She led him upstairs to Harvey's room, and they entered quietly. Harvey was propped up in his bed, reading the book that she had sent up with his lunch. _Angela's Ashes._ It was one of Elena's favorites.

"Harvey, how are you doing?" Gordon asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs in the room. Elena remained standing.

"Some days are better than others. I think we should have tried harder, though, to get Doc here to do some work for us. She knows her stuff, Jim," Harvey said, putting the book aside.

"I know. I was told she was the best, and I have no doubts," Gordon answered. "I thought you might be a pretty tough customer, though."

"He was. He's stubborn as hell," Elena commented, her voice affectionate. Gordon looked at her, his face confused. Cursing herself, Elena said, "I'll leave you two to chat. I'll be right outside if you need me."

She had lied. The minute she was out of that room, she was down in her office, pacing, desperately trying to get her thoughts in order. She definitely couldn't keep this case anymore. There were plenty of other therapists in Gotham who could finish his treatment. After all, she had done the hard work.

She wasn't sure how long she sat in her office with her face in her hands before Gordon came in to talk to her, followed closely by Batman. "Babs said that you were in your office, so I thought…You did it, Dr. Connelly. If you could just work with him for a few more weeks—"

"That's the problem, Commissioner. I can't keep working with him."

"Why not?"

"The second ethical principle of psychology. I'm too close to it. My fascination with the what is going on inside his head is keeping me from being able to focus whole-heartedly on his treatment. I care too much about him as a person, and I'm starting to neglect some of my other patients because of it. I have a list of several other very good doctors who can finish what I've started, but I can't keep treating him. I'm sorry." The whole speech poured out of her mouth faster than she had expected. She also felt that she had revealed more than she had ever intended. She hadn't meant to tell him that she was too close to him. She had simply meant to say that she was starting neglect her other patients…damnit. Gordon just sat there in shocked silence, staring at her. Batman seemed a little less shocked and slightly more angry.

"You've rehabilitated him. It's just a few more weeks—"

"No," she said, cutting off Batman. "I have a professional reputation to uphold. This is all I have. I wake up in the morning, come to work, go home, work, and go to bed. I don't have anything else, and I can't lose this because I think that I'm above the rules of ethics."

"The people of Gotham—"

"Are just going to have to take a backseat for a minute. Like I said, the work is done. You just need someone to do the follow up, and some grief counseling."

"When are you going to tell him?" Gordon asked quietly.

"I don't know. I can probably…it might be best to do it now. The sooner, the better, I guess."

"Well then do it," Batman growled. Elena shot him a dirty look and headed up to Harvey's room, not caring whether or not they followed. When she pushed open the door to Harvey's room, he was, once again, sitting up in bed, pouring over _Angela's Ashes._

"This is a great book, Doc," he said. Noting her serious face, his brow wrinkled with concern. "What's wrong, Doc?"

"Harvey…I have to tell you something."

"Okay."

"Do you remember me mentioning a long time ago, the ethical principles of psychology?"

"Yes."

"Well…The second principle is the Principle of Fidelity and Responsibility. Basically, it says that we, psychologists, have to be very clear in our objectives as a doctor, and that we have certain professional standards to uphold, and that we have to serve our patients the best we can. We have to always keep the patient's best interest at heart," she explained. Harvey just looked confused, so she continued. "Basically, we walk a fine line. Psychologists are supposed to care about their patients, but we can't care too much, and that's my problem. I do. I care too much."

"Doc, you've been nothing but profess—"

"I'm too close to it all. The line between being doctor and patient is getting increasingly blurry, and I can't keep treating you when that's the case."

"What? You're…not going to see me anymore?" he asked, his voice full of hurt.

"Harvey, it's in your best interests. I can't treat you properly when I'm like this. I can't do what might be necessary when I'm thinking of you as a…friend."

He was silent for a long moment, and Elena was sure that her heart was lying bleeding on the floor. It hurt so much to do this to him. So, so much. She wanted the best for Harvey Dent. She wanted to be the best for Harvey, but to do that, she had give him up. She knew that she wasn't going to be able to push him like he would need when she was trying to ignore the warm fuzzies she had for him.

"I understand," he said quietly. "Like, prosecuting a family member."

"Yeah, something like that."

With that, she left the room. The minute she was gone, silent tears flowed freely down Harvey's cheeks.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, there you have it. I hope that you enjoyed it, and that I wasn't wasting your time. Let me know what you think. I'm about to go back to school, so I'm not really sure how soon I'll be able to update again, but I promise that I will do my best. Encourage me.


	4. Shock

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the delay. I try to write as quickly as I can, but I have reading to do for 80% of my classes. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Harvey Dent was crushed. He had really just begun to regain his footing in this world, and now the rock he was standing on had been shaken. Doc wasn't going to see him anymore. He knew that it really shouldn't matter that much, that he shouldn't care about the woman who was being paid very generously for her services, but he did. She had brought him back from the darkest place he had ever been, and she had set him to rights. And now she was gone. She wasn't going to be treating him anymore, which meant that he wouldn't see her anymore. It felt like a betrayal.

Except that she hadn't betrayed him. He was important to her, she had said so herself. The line between the doctor/patient relationship had blurred into friendship, and that was why she had to stop treating him. He kept hearing her words over and over in his head as he waited to find out what was going to happen to him. There really wasn't much that he could do about the situation. He was at the mercy of James Gordon and the public relations people in the DA's office. But, strangely enough, he trusted that Doc wasn't going to let them ship him off to some crazy, whacked-out shrink like Jonathan Crane. He didn't mind being at Doc's mercy, because he trusted her. She really did have his best interests at heart, and he couldn't blame her for that.

But that didn't make any of this hurt any less. He had gotten used to their banter. Half the time, he didn't really think of them as 'rehabilitation sessions' as much as he thought of them as…well, a meeting between friends. Now he didn't even have that. He was just hoping that somehow this new shrink could be half as decent as Doc. Not that he really needed someone new. He knew perfectly well that he had gone to the darkest place that he could possibly go, and Doc had pulled him back from that. He wouldn't betray her by going back. That would be no way to repay her kindness. And it was definitely kindness, he decided. While, yes, she was being paid generously, he also knew that he had not been an easy patient. Somehow, she had managed to respond with patience and graciousness, but was still tough as nails.

He climbed into bed and pulled _Angela's Ashes _off the bedside table. While he had every intention of reading the book, he found himself unable to do so. He couldn't focus on what he was reading, because his thoughts kept wandering back to the woman that had saved him. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do without her, and that both saddened him and concerned him. His happiness should not be contingent on another person, but he was feeling down because he wouldn't be able to see her anymore. She shouldn't matter that much to him, but she did.

Damnit, he was confused. His thoughts were buzzing in his head, and all of them revolved around the good doctor. He could tell that she had been attempting to hold back her emotions when breaking the news to him, but there was an edge to her voice. It was…softer than usual, as if she had been begging for him to understand. And he did. That was actually part of the problem. He understood that they were closer than they should be. Perhaps if he didn't, he could hate her and be less confused. But no…he knew that he would never be able to hate Doc. She was too good to him.

"Babs?" he called, wanting to break the silence. The young woman pulled open the door and stepped inside, her expression worried.

"Yeah?"

"Did you know about this? That she wasn't going to be treating me anymore?"

"She didn't tell me anything, no…" She trailed off, her face showing traces of guilt.

"I feel like there's a 'but' in this sentence."

"She looked forward to your sessions. You challenged her on…a lot of levels. Your case was challenging, but beyond that, you, as a person, were…intellectually stimulating. And she started to pay more and more attention to you, and less to her other patients. That's definitely in violation of one of her precious 'ethical principles of psychology.' She was always looking forward to being able to see you again. I knew that eventually she would realize that. So, yeah, I guess I did see it coming. I just didn't figure it would be this soon," Babs said.

"It just seems so…I don't know. I didn't see it coming, and I feel like I should have."

"Of course you wouldn't see it. You're not around when she sees her other patients, and…well, she did a damn good job trying to keep you from noticing. After all, having an attraction to a patient who had so recently lost his fiancé would be highly inappropriate."

In the mind of Harvey Dent, the world froze for several minutes while he processed what he had just heard. Doc was attracted to him? That couldn't be right. After all, who would be, with a face like this? Not to mention the monstrous things that he had done. He knew that he wasn't that man anymore, but he would never expect someone to ever be attracted to him. Not when he looked the way he did, and definitely not knowing that he held that darkness inside of him. How could Doc possibly…?

"Babs, I think you got this one wrong—"

"No. I know I didn't."

"But how could she, with a fa—"

"There's definitely more to you than meets the eye, Harvey Dent. You and I both know this, and so does Elena. It's because you challenge her, because you're not intimidated by a smart woman…that's got a lot to do with it. But you just lost your fiancé, and she definitely wasn't going to put that knowledge on your shoulders."

"But—"

"No 'buts.' Now, let's go. I'm transferring you to the care of Dr. Herbert Banks." With that said, Babs took Harvey by his good arm, and walked him to her car. She had suggested to her uncle that they should have a little more security, but Gordon was playing this one super close to the chest, and didn't want to risk the exposure. After running security checks on Dr. Banks, they had agreed to transfer him from Elena's office to his. Babs would be handling the transport, and once she got there, someone else would take over her position so that she could get some sleep.

Thankfully for Babs, the drive was relatively short and very uneventful. This was unfortunate for Harvey, who spent the whole time pondering the news that he had just learned. It was completely baffling to him. He had always been a pretty perceptive guy. How had he not noticed?

When they arrived, Babs escorted him inside to meet Dr. Banks. He was a short, round man with large, owlish spectacles. He was balding, and trying to hide it with a poorly executed comb-over. His hands were constantly moving, fidgeting distractingly as he studied Harvey, not bothering to hide his disgust at the charred side of his face. Harvey was disliking this man already.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Herbert Banks. How are you?" he asked, extending his chubby hand. Trying to be polite, Harvey shook it.

"I've seen better days," he answered.

"I can see that." An awkward silence fell between the three. Harvey just stared at his new doctor, who really was turning out to be a self-important prick. Babs kept studying the surroundings, looking for anything that could be out of place, not that she expected to find anything. Banks just stood there, his fake smile frozen onto his face. Finally, he broke the silence. "Let's go get you settled in, then, shall we?"

They followed him to a small room. It was very similar to the one that he had stayed in when he was with Doc, but the atmosphere was very different. It wasn't comfortable, and Banks had done nothing to try to make it so. However, Harvey was exhausted, he had far too much on his mind, and Babs seemed to be giving him the seal of approval. He lay down on his bed and continued to ponder what in the world it was that his good 'ole Doc could possibly see in him.

* * *

Elena made it home, but she wasn't really sure how she managed to do so. She knew that she must have driven home in her car and somehow made her way to the bathroom, where she had gotten in the shower. She knew this, because that was where she found herself when she finally snapped out of her trance. She did not, however, know this because she remembered it. She couldn't remember a damn thing. All she knew was that she was standing in her shower, letting the water scald her while she did nothing.

It stung and burned and was really quite similar to how she was feeling about the Harvey Dent situation. She had to let him go. That was what was best for him, and that was what was important. It didn't really make it hurt any less, but at least she could comfort herself by saying that it was for the best. It was best for him, and as both a person and a psychologist, that was what mattered the most to her. It would have been selfish to keep him to herself when there were others who could help him, and others that he could help.

"It was the best thing to do, Elena, and you know it. If it's okay with his new doctor, maybe you can go and see him," she told herself, her voice hoarse with restrained emotion. It didn't stay restrained for very long. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor of the shower in a heap. Sobs wracked her entire body as the hot water continued to pour over her. It was as if there was an ache in her chest that she was hoping to cry out. It didn't work. The longer she sobbed, the more intense the ache became.

She for the pain of giving him up. She cried because she couldn't give him up when he was never hers in the first place. She cried for the pain that she knew he was in, not only from the burns, but also from her abandonment. She cried for the shear overwhelming ridiculousness of it all. But most of all, she cried for herself and for what she had lost.

Time became fluid, like water running down the drain. The only marking of the passage of time for her was the water temperature. It went from scalding to hot, hot to warm, warm to chilly, and finally from chilly to freezing. And the whole time, she just sat in the floor of her shower, feeling sorry for herself. She knew better than to feel sorry for Harvey. He would have been majorly pissed off with her if he had found that she was feeling sorry for him. He hated that. So, out of respect for him, she would only feel sorry for herself.

Finally, when she could stand the cold water no longer, she quickly finished her shower and stepped out, not bothering with a towel. She stood in front of the mirror, studying her red, blotchy eyes, letting the water drip off her body and puddle on the floor. She walked into her bedroom and pulled on her favorite red flannel nightgown that happened to look like a man's oversized shirt. She had gotten it in college [undergrad], and wore it when she was in need of comfort. After her first boyfriend dumped her. After she wrecked her first care. After her mother had died. Again when her father passed away. When she had been overly stressed about her dissertation. And now, she would wear it again.

Then, she pulled herself into the bed, and tried to get her mind off things by looking over her patient files. She would be seeing Allison again tomorrow, and James, the bipolar artist. It had made her laugh [not to his face] when he told her that he was an artist. Clichés are clichés for a reason, she supposed. She would also be seeing Thomas, the college student with major depressive disorder. Looking over their files helped her to focus on what tomorrow would be like without Harvey Dent.

The idea was very lonely, and somehow, once she fell asleep, managed to invade her dreams. This made for very restless sleep. She would wake and then toss and turn, then repeat the process, never getting more than an hour of sleep at a time. Finally, around three in the morning when she realized that she wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, she got up and pulled out one of her many psychology journals and started to read up on new experimental treatments for bipolar disorder. She hated using lithium to control James's mood cycles, but it did nip them in the bud. The problem with James was that when he was manic, he didn't mind being that way. Being "up" was fun, and he didn't really want to stop. The only reason he was there was because his parents were paying her generously to try to help their son.

Thomas was doing better, and that was very encouraging, but she continued to see him for fear of him having another depressive episode. The more stable his life was, the less likely he was to have a relapse. It was that way with any psych patient. Stability was always a good thing to someone with a psychological disorder. Everyone needs a little stability in their lives. Even Dr. Elena Connelly, who definitely didn't have a psychological disorder, needed stability in her life. Which she had before _he _came into it.

She sighed angrily. She had cried and gotten that out of her system, and now she was just plain angry with herself. Everything had been just fine before now. A little monotonous and lonely, but otherwise, fine. And now, she was letting someone, a patient no less, pull down her carefully constructed world. With a frustrated grunt, she pushed her files aside and rose. She felt restless, like a tiger in a cage with no room to run or hunt or play. Instead, she paced. Back and forth and back and forth across the room. Finally, her phone rang, breaking the monotony. She answered on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Elena?"

"Speaking."

"It's Herbert Banks. How are you?" Dr. Herbert Banks was the first doctor on the list of doctors that she had recommended for Harvey Dent. She didn't particularly like the man, but he was the best…second to her, of course. She had pushed Gordon to send him to Banks, but she definitely didn't like that he was already calling her with what she hoped was a question, not a problem.

"I would be better if you weren't calling me at four in the morning. What's going on?" Elena demanded impatiently, trying to seem as normal as possible. Trying to seem like she wasn't desperately wondering if Harvey was okay.

"Dent's lost it. At first he was really quiet, and wouldn't talk to me or anyone. Then, he just went crazy and started swearing and throwing things—"

"What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything—"

"He was fine when I turned him over to you. You had to have done something."

"I put him in his room, and then came back for his session, and he was silent. I asked him a few questions and he snapped."

"What did you ask him about?"

"The typical. Rachel Dawes, his face, that sort of thing. Please, Elena, can you come—"

"Can you put him on the phone?"

"We knocked him out with sedatives. Elena, he was tried to strangle me—"

"I'll be down there as soon as I can."

She slammed the phone down on the cradle, and quickly changed into some yoga pants, a tank top, and tennis shoes. She stopped only to grab a track jacket and her purse before she was dashing out the door. There was no reason for him to be acting like this, and she knew that she absolutely had to go to him.

* * *

Harvey struggled against the bonds tying him to the bed, yelling and swearing and threatening everyone in sight. Dr. Banks stood in the corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, his face a picture of disapproval. Frustration was evident on Harvey's face, from the crease in his brow to the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. Dr. Banks just stood there, clicking his tongue in disapproval and tapping his foot. After a while, he finally spoke.

"Harvey Dent, the white knight of Gotham. See how far you've fallen," he taunted.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Now, now, there's no need for swearing. The good doctor Connelly will be here shortly, and we can sort everything out. How's that?"

Harvey was silent for a moment, shocked, and completely at a loss for words. Doc was coming. Part of him was overjoyed at the fact that he would be seeing her again, but another part of him absolutely hated it. She shouldn't be here, not with this crazed psychopath. A chill ran down his spine at the thought.

"You called her? No! She can't be here—"

"She can, and she will. Won't that be a fun time? We can have a session, just the three of us," Banks said.

Harvey again tried to struggle against his restraints. She couldn't come here. She couldn't. But no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't get free of the restraints. Knowing that perhaps he would need his strength later, he stopped struggling, but that didn't keep him from shouting and yelling. After growing tired of listening, Banks gagged his patient and stepped outside the wait on the Dr. Connelly.

It didn't take her long to arrive. Despite the fact that he had called her at four in the morning, she still looked lovely. She was clad in workout clothes and tennis shoes with her hair pulled up in a ponytail and her glasses perched on the end of her nose. Everything about her conveyed her urgency: she was walking quickly, her expression was worried. Yes, she had definitely taken the bait hook, line, and sinker.

"Where the hell is he?" she snapped before he could even greet her. He was taken aback by her abruptness. Every time that he had met her previously, she had been the picture of professionalism, even under immense stress. What was different about this patient?

Instead of letting his curiosity get the best of him, he kept a cool head and smiled. "He's right this way. Follow me." She followed him, never letting him get more than a step ahead. He stopped outside Harvey's door. Impatiently, she brushed right past him and into the room without a second thought. He smiled and shut the door behind her with absolutely no intentions of opening it again. His grin grew wider when he heard her swearing and pounding on the door, trying to get out.

Elena pushed open the door and saw Harvey held down with restraints to his bed, a gag cutting into his face. She reached back for the door handle, trying to catch it, but it closed with a loud "click" just as she grabbed the handle. A string of words, unseemly to repeat, spewed forth from her mouth as she banged on the door. After several minutes, she crossed the room to where Harvey lay.

"Are you alright?" she asked, undoing the restraints with no problem. He nodded vigorously, which made her job of getting the gag off a little bit more difficult. Finally, between the two of them, they managed to get it off, though it was made more difficult by his refusal to let her touch the burned half of his face. He groaned in pain as he pulled the cloth away from his burns. Elena cringed. "What happened?"

"Everything was normal. I fell asleep, and I when I woke up, he had be tied to the damn bed. Doc, why'd you come?" She was unsure if the question was an actual inquiry or a curse. She couldn't be sure.

"He called and told me that you were having a violent episode. I came to see if you were alright."

"You actually believed him?" Harvey cried, his voice full of disbelief.

"I didn't want to believe him, but, at the time, I didn't have a reason not to trust him. I assumed that he had screwed up and said something that upset you."

"You worked hard to get me to where I am now. I wouldn't betray you by undermining your work that way."

"Well…you had just been moved to a new environment. One of the most important things that we're taught, as psychologists, is that stability is key. Someone may seem perfectly normal one minute, but then an event happens that triggers an episode. And considering that you were just moved a few hours ago, I thought that maybe I was mistaken, and that…it seemed plausible, okay?" she said, trying to justify her reason for coming. Because she wasn't about to tell him why she really came. "Besides, I think the bigger problem at hand here is, you know, why we happen to be locked in this room. What the hell is going on?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I have a snaking suspicion that Banks isn't playing for the Gotham Police Department. My money's on the mob."

"Yeah, no kidding. But they were supposed to do a thorough background check. I mean, I knew he was a self-important jerk, but I did a check, too, and didn't find anything criminal. There was nothing even remotely criminally related!"

"He's obviously pretty good at hiding things, then," Harvey said. He kept pacing back and forth and back and forth across the room. Elena just stood by the door, nervously running her hands through her hair, trying to think of anything that could be helpful. Nothing was really springing to mind.

"Damnit!" Harvey yelled, hitting the wall. There was a sickening crunch on impact, and Elena cringed. She had her share of broken bones in childhood, but watching Harvey break his hand was something altogether different. He stood there for a minute, his jaw clenched, grinding his teeth against the pain. Elena rushed to him.

"What the hell did you do that for?" she yelled. She took his broken hand into her tiny ones. She studied it carefully, poking and prodding and taking note of the swollen places. There wasn't a whole lot that she was going to be able to do about his hand. "We might need these hands later."

"You shouldn't be here."

"And you should be?" she snapped, stress getting the better of her.

"I killed people. Maybe this is just karma biting me in the—"

"That's behind you, and we're not going to dwell on it, alright? Let's think of some way to get the hell out of here instead."

"The walls are cinderblock, and the door locks from the outside. I'm thinking that he can't just leave us here forever, right? I'll take them by surprise when they open the door."

"With only one hand? I'm not completely useless, you know," she commented dryly. The wheels in his head were turning, formulating some kind of escape plan. Eventually, they ended up sitting against the wall, close to the door. She was listening for footsteps, him trying to come up with some kind of plan.

After half an hour, she heard them. They both scrambled to their feet. He pushed her behind him as he prepared to meet whoever came through the door. She moved to stand beside him, rather than behind him, and stood ready as well. As the door creaked open, Harvey threw himself at the first person to set foot in the room, not really bothering to see who it was. Unfortunately for him, there was definitely more than one person, and they all definitely had guns, which were aimed directly at Elena. Noting this, Harvey froze.

"Get up, Dent. Back inside you go." This voice was familiar. Very, very familiar. Salvatore Maroni stepped into the room, looking very pissed off, very smug, and definitely very dangerous.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I hope you enjoyed it, and again, I apologize for the delay. Review, please, because it brightens my far too dreary days. Thanks for reading.


	5. A Woman in Gotham

**Author's Note: **The holiday gave me a little bit of extra time to work on this. I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

Harvey's blood ran cold as he rose to his feet and stepped back into the room with Doc. Salvatore Maroni was a very powerful, very ruthless, very dangerous man, and here he was. Maroni was the new head of the Falcone crime family; he had people that could take care of his dirty work for him, so for him to actually be here was definitely a bad sign. Of course, he had always known that the mob was after him. That, and Batman, were the reasons that they had hired the Joker in the first place. But they had lured Doc here, too…Why was that? Why did they need her?

"That worked well," Doc whispered to him as he sat down next to her.

"That wasn't exactly how I had planned it going in my head."

"I sure as hell hope not."

Diverting his attention to the problem at hand, Harvey studied the crime boss in front of him. He no longer needed his canes, which made it all the easier for him to carry a Glock 40. Harvey was also willing to bet his life savings that Glock was also equipped with hollow-point bullets. Hollow points did the most damage when they hit a target because the tip would expand…the very idea made him cringe. Yeah, that would really be the icing on cyanide-laced cake.

"So, what do we have here? We've got Harvey Dent, Gotham's DA, and Elena Connelly, his shrink. Here you are in a mental institution, half your face burned off. My, how the mighty have fallen," Maroni said, a sneer plastered all over his face. Doc rolled her eyes, her patience at a complete minimum.

"How the mighty have fallen? Are you not the one who hired a crazed clown-man who's broken you? You've been reduced to being your own hit man. I'd say you're the pot calling the kettle black," Doc snapped. Harvey gave her the look that he would normally reserve for crazy people. Crazy, but still sane people; stupid, perhaps was the proper term. Maroni was looking at her like she had grown an extra head. It was probably the only thing that those two men would ever agree on.

"Have you lost your mind?" Harvey asked her. It was a very valid question.

"Hardly," she answered. Maroni, having recovered from his shock at being correctly insulted, laughed at her. His laugh was oddly sincere, which she found a little disturbing. He was a mob boss who had people murdered and maimed all the time, usually simply for business purposes. The fact that his laugh was genuine…that was not a good sign. He found her genuinely funny, and she wasn't sure what to make of that, which is perhaps why she didn't like it. She liked being able to control a situation and lead it in the direction that she wished it to go, but to do so, she had to understand it completely.

"You're funny for a shrink—"

"Psychiatrist. I prefer the term psychiatrist. Though, 'psychologist' or 'doctor' will work equally well."

"And ballsy, too. It'll almost be a pity to get rid of this one. She's entertaining at least." Harvey felt his chest tighten at Maroni's words. Doc was going to get herself into big trouble with that entertaining mouth of hers. She had been so wise and full of wisdom when she had been treating him. He was starting to wonder if perhaps the circumstances had scared all that wisdom, which should be telling her to keep her mouth shut, away.

"Doc, maybe you ought to be quiet," Harvey suggested quietly.

"Why? Being quiet isn't going to make him keep me around," she answered back.

"Please," he asked, gripping her hand. She nodded and squeezed back, trying to quell the fear rising within her. Chivalry had been ingrained in him since he was knee high, and he was going to maintain it to the last. Well, he was going to try, at least.

"How sweet. He's trying to comfort the good doctor," Maroni taunted them. Harvey was actually quite sure that Maroni was very wrong on that fact. He wasn't necessarily trying to comfort the doctor as much as he was trying to comfort himself. He could touch her, tell that she was still there, and still very much alive, which was the important thing at the moment. If she was getting some comfort out of it, then that was great as well.

"Look, you dragged us down here for some reason or another, so do you mind informing the rest of us as to what the plan is?" Doc asked, her voice impatient. Harvey squeezed her hand tightly for a moment, trying once again to get her to be quiet. He was hoping that all this talking had a reason behind it, because he didn't know what purpose it was supposed to serve. Of course, some people got really nervous when guns were pointed in their faces. He wasn't really one of them, and had Doc not been here, he would have been fighting tooth and nail to get out. But he couldn't afford for her to be shot in his ill-conceived escape attempt.

"We can't afford to have Harvey Dent around," Maroni said matter-of-factly.

"With how much the city paid me to take the job, I can understand that. But then, I sincerely doubt that you pay taxes. At least, all the ones you're supposed to, anyway."

"He's cleaning up Gotham. Legally. Or, at least, he was. Now, you've rehabilitated him, and we just can't afford that," the crime boss explained. This made perfect sense to Harvey. They didn't want him to be back out there, cleaning up the streets. Anyone with any sense knew, though, that he would probably never be able to go back into politics. Even though they kept his reputation squeaky clean, he hadn't even though of going back and having another run at being the D.A. "We also can't afford to have him running around after our guys and flipping a coin over who lives and dies. That sort of unpredictability is dangerous."

"Says the man with the Glock 40," Harvey mumbled under his breath. Hearing this, Doc grinned at him. Maroni's smile, however, disappeared. Harvey gripped Doc's hand tighter and literally bit his tongue. "That still doesn't explain why you want Doc here out of the equation."

"The good doctor has managed to rehabilitate you. You were insane, killing people at the flip of a coin, and she managed to bring you back from that. So what do you think she's going to be able to do for all out lower level men?" Maroni explained. Harvey was still confused, and looked to Doc for explanation.

"Sometimes, they'll use the mentally handicapped people for their dirty work. They don't have to pay them as much, and most of them can be conditioned not to incriminate their boss," Doc clarified. Harvey nodded, realizing now that they were thinking about their funds. If Doc did go into business rehabilitating people that the mob used for dirty work, that was going to make business even harder for them. Taking her out was a preemptive strike. They weren't going to wait for her to start working so that she could become a martyr; instead, they were going to kill her before she had a chance to help anyone else.

Guilt tore through him. Doc wouldn't even be in this situation if it weren't for him. She had treated him, and somehow, probably through this bastard Banks, that she had managed to rehabilitate him. Because of her good work, she was going to die. If she had never started to treat him, she wouldn't be in this situation. The responsibility weighed heavily on him, and he was going to do his best to get her out of this situation.

"Doc doesn't take criminal cases. Trust me, I called her plenty of times my first two weeks in office trying. You don't have anything to worry about from her," Harvey said, desperately trying to save Doc from what he deemed was his fault.

"She managed you, that's enough," Maroni said cruelly, eying Doc with an expression that Harvey didn't particularly care for. Doc just looked him in the eye, determined that she was not going to let her fear show on her face.

"Yeah. I'm damn good at what I do. Who knows, maybe you have inspired me to go back into criminal psychology, Sally. Is it alright if I call you Sally?" she asked flippantly. Maroni gestured to one of his thugs, who tried to backhand Doc. Instead, Harvey took a swing at him and knocked him to the ground. In retaliation, two of the thugs hit him, and another took a swing at Doc, who looked very unenthused.

"So, chivalry isn't dead after all. That's nice," Maroni commented. When Harvey recovered from the blows, he could see Doc, who already had a bruise blossoming on her cheek. But instead of worrying about her own bruises, she was already moving to tend to his. She took his face in her hands and studied the bruising area with a gentle touch.

"Its fine," he whispered, trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry," she answered, her voice just as soft. He just shook his head. _She _was apologizing to _him. _ He was the reason she was in this mess; it didn't seem right that she should apologize to him. No, if anything, it should be the other way around. He reached for her, his fingers gently brushing over the side of her face. The moment was unspeakably intimate, and she broke the contact, not wanting to sully their moment by having it in front of the leading crime boss of Gotham.

Maroni, however, was enjoying the course that things were taking. There was something happening in front of him that he hadn't counted on, and it was going to make the evening's events all the more exciting and fun. He had never personally watched while a pair of lovers was killed. It was a new experience for him to savor, and he definitely planned on savoring it.

The people in front of him were most definitely lovers. He might be one of the coldest, most calculating men in all of Gotham, and perhaps on the East Coast, but he knew love when he saw it. There was a tenderness in their eyes when they looked at each other; they were concerned for each other and didn't seem to care at all about themselves. Yes, they were definitely lovers. Or, in love, at least.

"Ah…So that's why you gave up the case. It's against the rules to sleep with your patients," Maroni said. "Even _I _know that. Tsk, tsk, doctor. Perhaps your reputation as an ice woman who is married to her precious code of ethics isn't so correct after all."

Harvey was in shock. How did a mob boss know who she was? And in that much depth? Yes. She did have a widely-known reputation for being a stickler about her principles, but that wasn't common knowledge outside the professional circles. He had to be getting this information from somewhere…Banks. He must have gotten Banks into his pocket before he researched Doc. He studied her face; she looked…upset. He wasn't sure if that was because of Maroni's implication of her unprofessionalism, or if it was his mention of her reputation. Sadly, when he had inquired about her, the most commonly used phrase to describe her had been "cold and stone-hearted, but highly professional." The implication that she was married to the ethical principles of psychology had been made more than once. He wondered if that reputation pained her.

"My adherence to the profession code of ethics is what makes me a great doctor," she said, her voice fierce.

"Doc, it doesn't matter," Harvey told her. He could tell that she was biting the inside of her cheeks, trying to hold back fear and emotion. "It doesn't matter, okay?" She nodded. Not caring that Maroni and the rest of his thugs were watching, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his good side. He wasn't entirely sure where they stood, and he still didn't understand her supposed attraction to him, but he knew that she needed comfort, and that he had to give it to her. It was also comforting to have her close to him. It confirmed that they were both still alive, and staying that way was at the top of his priority list.

"Now, I like this situation. I'm mostly thinking of just leaving you two here and watching you break down. Do I have time for that?" he asked one of his henchmen. Harvey almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all when one of them actually checked his watch and nodded. Doc just looked concerned. Maroni studied them for a moment before gesturing to his thugs. They all quickly left the room and pulled the door shut behind them before Harvey and Doc managed to even move. They both let out the breath they'd been holding.

"You have no sense of self-preservation do you?" Harvey asked her. His voice wasn't mean, but instead, affectionate with an edge of worry. She was limp against him, her forehead resting against his shoulder, just relieved to be alive.

"Quite the opposite. The longer he's distracted, the longer we're alive. I'm definitely in favor of staying alive as long as possible," she said breathlessly.

"Well, you should try distracting him in a less antagonistic way."

"Dare I say that the pot is calling the kettle black? You've antagonized the mob plenty," she said. He could feel her smile against his shoulder. Another stab of guilt shot through him.

"You shouldn't be here," he whispered to her quietly.

"No one should be here. This situation shouldn't be happening at all."

"You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me." She sat up and took his face in her hands, pulling him closer until her forehead was resting against his. He tried to pull away, to keep her from touching the ruined side of his face, but to no avail. It didn't matter to her that half of his face was missing; what mattered most was that he knew none of this was his fault.

"Stop that, okay? This is not your fault. This is Maroni's fault. This is Banks's fault. This is in no way your fault, so you get that idea out of your head right now. Do you understand me?" she said, her voice fierce. He nodded, taken aback by the intensity of her response. She didn't seem convinced. "You don't blame me for being stupid enough to take the bait, do you?"

"Of course not."

"Then don't blame yourself, either."

"You shouldn't be in this—"

"Situation. I know. But guess what? _We _are, so _we're_ just going to have to do the best we can. Now, hand me my purse."

"What?"

"Hand me my purse." She gestured to where it had fallen and slid under the bed. Harvey was reluctant to let her go, but he did so just long enough to grab her purse. It was stupid of Maroni's men not to have confiscated it; they probably missed it because it was hidden beneath the bed. He handed it to her and watched as she rifled through the large tote, looking for something. With a cry of victory, she pulled a Smith & Wesson .9 mm from inside it.

Harvey wasn't really thinking when he closed the space between them and kissed her fiercely on the lips. She was caught off guard for a split second and he felt her freeze for a moment before she dropped the handgun, threw her arms around his neck, and wholeheartedly kissed him back. It was as if they were breathing life into each other, and to pull apart would be death. She was crushed against him, and it wasn't close enough for either of them. His hands slid from where they were resting on her waist down to cup her rear. She straddled him, trying to get closer, and her hands tugged impatiently at the bottom of his shirt.

When they finally had to pull away, it was with mutual disappointment. They struggled to catch their breath, and it was made more difficult by the fact they refused to let go of one another. Her arms stayed wrapped around his neck; his around her waist. Her chin rested on his shoulder; his on top of her head. He didn't want to let her go, he realized. This feels right. For the first time in months, he felt like he belonged. Not in a mental institution with the mob lurking outside, but in Doc's arms. It was right.

"You had a gun all this time?" he asked, not moving.

"I couldn't get to it. It was under the bed. It's not like I could just slyly reach under there and get it," she replied. She moved her arms from around his neck, and put a little space between them so that she could better see his face, but her hands lingered on him. "I know that I shouldn't have done that but—"

"It was right," he finished.

"Perfect." She rested her head on his shoulder again, and let her hands wander over the planes of his back. His muscles were strong and defined beneath his cotton t-shirt, and she could feel them tense as she ran her hands over them. She tried to take in every detail of the moment: how the smell, how he felt, his face…every detail she etched into her memory. It didn't bother her in the least that he was doing the same thing. His hands were on the small of her back, tracing her spine upwards. She shivered at the sensation. He kissed her neck, which elicited a small gasp from Doc.

Her mind was hazy; the sensation of his hands on her was in itself overwhelming. She didn't want to let go, but she knew that if she wanted to get out of this situation alive, she needed to do so. He groaned as she pulled away, and she kissed him gently on the cheek. She didn't move very far, though; just far enough to pick up the gun from where it lay on the floor. They began studying the room, trying to decide the best way to go about an ambush, but it was very difficult when they were still so close to each other.

"This is way more difficult than it should be," Elena commented when he pulled her close again. She couldn't resist another kiss, and he saw no reason to withhold one. It started chastely, but didn't stay that way for long. The kiss deepened and their hands roamed. Elena pulled away. "We can't be doing this now—"

"Right. We should think about getting out of here," he said, trying to catch his breath. His hands were lingering on her hips, itching for a touch of skin on skin. _That's going to have to wait, _he thought, _because you can't feel anything if you're dead._ He settled for taking her hand. "I'm still confused on why you have a gun, though."

"I'm a woman in Gotham. Do you really need to ask that question?" Doc answered. "Besides, I have a concealed weapons permit. Was that not in my file at the DA's office?"

"It must have gotten lost in the paperwork," he commented dryly.

"Well, I definitely have one, and I can definitely handle myself with one, so don't worry about me blowing your toes off by accident."

"Right, well, I'm thinking that our best course of action is going to be…"

* * *

Elena could hear the thud of men's shoes on the tile floor. She gestured for Harvey to get in place. He did so, but only after she gave him yet another quick, fierce kiss. He off to the side of the door, ready to fight. Elena stood directly in front of it, gun in her hand. This plan was actually very similar to the one they had earlier, but was going to, hopefully, be better executed. As the door opened, Harvey knocked the hell out of the first guy through the door. As soon as she knew that Harvey was out of the way, Elena fired, hitting another thug in the shoulder; he dropped like a rock. Elena kept firing at each man to come through the door, hitting each one. Harvey did his fair share, stripping each man of his weapon as they lay in the floor.

As the smoke cleared, Elena was stood victorious, a wicked smile on her face. Harvey smiled at her and continued to pull guns from the unconscious bleeding men on the floor. They both managed to breathe a sigh of relief. Elena tucked the gun into the top of her pants, and reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone.

"You didn't pull that out earlier?" Harvey asked, frustrated.

"It was a little bit difficult to think straight," she answered as she dialed. Her reception was pretty terrible, but she managed to get a call through to an emergency dispatcher.

"Hello, emergency dispatch. Please state the nature of your emergency," the dispatcher said.

"My name is Dr. Elena Connelly. I'm at 1347 King Street, Dr. Herbert Banks's office. I have four men with minor gunshot wounds. Two in the shoulder, one in the arm, another in the leg."

"Is there a lot of blood?"

"There's some, but they're all flesh wounds."

"Apply pressure, and we'll send an ambulance over. No one is to leave the scene. We are required to take statements from everyone involved in the situation. I'm going to ask you to please stay on the phone with me until the ambulance gets there—"

"Hang up the phone."

Elena heard the command at about the same time she felt the cold metal of the gun barrel against her neck. She silently cursed herself for assuming that Maroni had run when the trouble started. No, instead, he had actually been smart and waited until they thought they were in the clear. Damnit. He was smarter than either one of them had given him credit for. She didn't want to hang up, but give that he did have a gun held to her neck, she thought it might be best to cooperate.

"You think you're so clever with your gun and your ambush plan. Well I've got news for you. I'm not as stupid as you think I am. Now, drop the phone." She dropped the phone, and it made a loud clattering as it hit the floor. She could hear the dispatcher still talking, but Maroni stepped on the phone and crushed it. "Over there, on the floor next to Dent." She did as he asked, pulling her jacket closed, hiding the gun. She sat on the floor next to Harvey, who wrapped an arm around her waist. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and she could see the cogs turning in his mind. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

Maroni stood still, studying the pair of them as if he had never seen anything quite like them before. Elena wasn't really sure what to make of the expression, but she was quite sure that she didn't like it. As a rule, she didn't generally like men that pointed guns at her, and she definitely didn't like ones that she knew had every intention of killing her.

"It's been an interesting time with you folks, but I'm on a schedule, and I've got to run," Maroni said. As he pulled the trigger, Harvey pulled the gun from where it was hidden and took several shots at Maroni, hitting him square in the chest. He watched as Maroni stood still for a moment, a look of complete and utter shock on his face. Then he fell backwards and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Harvey smiled, when he felt Doc sag against him. He leaned against her, his relief evident, but he didn't get the response he was hoping for. Instead of a sigh of relief, she was gasping. He felt something wet against his side, and was horrified to see blood on his clothes. Even more horrifying was seeing it on hers.

"Doc?" he asked, his voice full of worry.

"Don't worry, it's just…it isn't too bad," she said through gritted teeth. He studied the wound more closely, but was still very concerned. Luckily, he hadn't been right about Maroni using hollow point bullets, for which he said a silent prayer of thanks. "Bastard used full metal jackets. Never thought I'd be grateful to someone like him, but that's better than a hollow point."

"Very true, though I would mostly be upset about being shot in general," he answered. He pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped it under her arm and tied it tightly, trying to stem the flow of blood. "I'm going to apply more pressure. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she managed. He nodded and counted to three. On three, he applied more pressure, which made Doc gasp before crying out in pain. She stayed awake, though, which was a very good sign. He tried to keep her talking, just to make sure that she stayed awake. He pulled her close against him, trying to keep her warm in order to ward off shock. "How do you know about hollow point and full metal jacket bullets, anyway?"

"It's all in that class they make you take before you get your concealed weapons permit. They explain all the differences, which are legal, illegal, which do the most damage to a target…incidentally, that would be the—"

"Hollow point. I know." He kissed the top of her head. Despite the pain, she was still itching to touch him. She ran her good hand over his bare chest, feeling the sleek muscles beneath her fingers. It was ridiculous how much she wanted…no, needed to touch him. He kept the pressure on her wound, but didn't stop her from touching him.

"I don't know what's gotten into me," she whispered, studying him. She traced his jaw line, down his neck and across his strong shoulders with her fingertips. He didn't mind at all, not even when she reached the burn scars on his shoulder. They weren't as severe as the burns on his face, and under her fingertips, they felt like a badge of honor.

"I think we established that it was a bullet," he said, his voice husky. He knew that he shouldn't be feeling this way. For one, Doc was bleeding. He should be thinking more about her well being than his libido. And secondly…a few months ago, he had been with Rachel. He had been in love with a beautiful, strong woman, not unlike the one in front of him, and she had died. He knew in his heart of hearts that Rachel would not have wanted him to be unhappy. What he was feeling for Doc was overwhelming, something very different from his feelings for Rachel. They had been more of a slow, steady couple. Obviously, he and Doc weren't slow and steady. It was more like an explosion, but that didn't make it any less valid.

"I don't think that's in there anymore," she answered. She was making an attempt at humor, but the pain in her voice kept it from being very funny. But she was definitely awake and alert, and they both kept clinging to that. And each other. Yes, they were definitely clinging to each other. "Harvey…kiss me again."

"You know, we always seem to come up breathless, and you need all the breath you can get right now. As soon as you're patched, I'll definitely get on that," he answered. She grinned weakly. He shifted positions so that she could lean back against him, and he could more comfortably tend his shoulder.

"You promise?"

"Definitely," he said, gently applying pressure to the wound again. They could hear the noise of the EMTs coming down the hall. Harvey called out to them, trying to lead them in the right direction. They entered the room and found Elena leaning back against Harvey Dent, blood oozing from the bullet hole in her shoulder. The EMTs rushed in, unsure of where to start. Harvey solved this issue for them right quickly. "She was shot by Salvatore Maroni." That's all it took for the EMTs to rush to her side.

Commissioner Gordon followed shortly after the EMTs, who had covered Maroni's body with a sheet. Gordon had gotten word of what happened and radioed ahead for them to keep Harvey Dent there. Harvey, of course, had raised hell, because he wanted to go with Elena to the hospital. Gordon had demanded that he stay, however, so he did.

"What happened here?" Gordon asked, walking into the room and seeing Maroni's sheet-covered form. He lifted the sheet to see what exactly had happened to Salvatore Maroni. Upon seeing the several shots to the chest, he knew formed a pretty good idea of what happened.

"Your guy, Banks, was dirty. Who did his background check?" Harvey demanded, his voice furious. He looked very scary with Elena's blood on his hands and chest.

"I did. Someone must have covered it up. Ramirez and Wertz had their hands all over those files before…when they were still on the squad," Gordon said.

"Well, Babs brought me over here earlier this evening, and I was getting settled in. I took a nap, and when I woke up, he had strapped me down and was telling me that he had someone who needed to see me. I could tell from his tone that he wasn't talking about my long lost cousin Lenny. He called Doc—Elena—Dr. Connelly, and apparently told her that I was having a violent outburst. She came down here, and they locked us in here together. That's when Maroni turned up. He thought it would be lots of fun to play a game with the two of us, but Doc—Dr. Connelly—"

"You can call her Doc," Gordon said kindly, with a subtle smile.

"Right. Doc had a hand gun in her purse and we were able to lay a trap when they came back in. I took down the first one, and she managed to lay out the rest of them. She hit all of them with one shot, non-fatal. We thought that Maroni had fled the scene when he heard the shooting. Instead, he waited for us to relax before he came in. Doc was calling the ambulance, and he put a gun to her neck—"

"Do you remember what kind it was?" Gordon asked.

"Glock 40. He made her drop the phone, and she did. I guess it was pretty lucky for us…she had tucked her pistol into the waistband of her pants, and when he pulled the trigger, I got grabbed the gun and shot him. I didn't realize that he had shot Doc until she leaned back against me. I could feel the blood seeping through her clothes. We tried to get it stopped, but I couldn't completely…then the ambulance showed up and took her to the hospital…" Harvey trailed off thinking of her on that stretcher. She had been awake and talking to him the whole time, though. He was clinging to that.

"Where was she hit?" Gordon asked quietly.

"The shoulder. She said it wasn't that bad, but…"

"Well, I've got your statement. Dr. Connelly said that basically she just needed someone to continue what she had started, but right now, I have to take care of this. Truth is, I don't know what to do with you, Dent. I'm determined that we're going to do this right. You're going to get psychological treatment, and you're going to complete it. I want you to be given a complete bill of mental health, but for right now, I have no idea what to do with you. I'm thinking that if you stick around with me until I finish this up, I'll take you to the hospital to check on Dr. Connelly."

Harvey just nodded. He sure as hell wasn't going to take a ride from another police officer, other than Gordon, again. While he did believe that Gordon was doing his best to clean things up, he wasn't going to put himself at the mercy of a possibly corrupt cop again. "Yeah, I'll wait."

"Now…I see a security camera, is there any way that I can get any feeds with footage of Maroni in it?" Gordon asked. A young investigator responded by handing him a stack of discs. They would look over them when they got back to the station. Gordon knew that as police commissioner, he should be doing more administrative stuff, but this case was very important. This had been Dent's last big trial before he…before he became Two-Face. But he seemed to be back now, and if he wasn't…well, he wasn't going to let Dent's or Rachel Dawes's sacrifice be in vain.

Upon seeing all those tapes, Harvey's brain went into overdrive. He and Doc had…well, there had been some very intense groping, and he definitely didn't want the whole of the Gotham police department watching it on a security tape. He also didn't want Doc's professional reputation to be ruined, either. She hadn't been his doctor, technically, at the time, but he still didn't want her to have to defend herself to other people.

"Jim…Jim, please, can I talk to you?" Harvey asked quietly, his voice serious.

"I'm almost done. Hang on for just a second," Gordon answered. The crime scene investigators had finished putting up their place markers, snapping pictures, taking blood samples. They had to wait on the medical examiner to show up to take care of Maroni's body. It was taking entirely too long in Harvey's opinion, but Gordon was holding on to those video files, so he stayed quiet. When they finally finished, Harvey waited until they were in Gordon's car to say anything to him.

"Alright, what do you need to talk to me about?" Gordon said.

"On those tapes…Doc and I…the reason that she stopped seeing me was because she was too close…your niece said that she had feelings for me…"

"I know. Babs told me. She figured it out, and gave me some advanced warning. Apparently the only one that she managed to hide it from was you," Gordon said, his voice not unkind.

"When Maroni left us alone in the room for a few minutes, and everything just…I kissed her, and it got a little…heady there for a few minutes. I would really appreciate it if this didn't get out. I don't want her reputation to be damaged," Harvey explained, his affection very clear all over his broken face.

"I know. That's why we're headed to the hospital. The three of us are going to figure it all out."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So there it is. Harvey and Elena's first kiss. Give me feedback!


	6. Mal

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. That was lovely of you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter, though it is a tad shorter than usual.  


* * *

Harvey and Gordon rode to the hospital with minimal chatter; they only spoke when the silence became overwhelming. Mostly, Harvey focused on how in the world they were going to get out of this situation. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that this could stay secret forever. People would demand to see security tapes, and then it would be al over. For Elena, at least. Those tapes had the potential to ruin her career.

_Damnit, Harvey, you couldn't control yourself, could you? _he thought to himself.

"Is there any way we can get out of this with Doc keeping her job?" he blurted before thinking.

"I don't know. The public doesn't know she was treating you, which works in our favor. They are very much in the dark about your situation. The only thing that we've released is that you were in an undisclosed hospital for treatment of severe facial burns. We've got some wiggle room, I'm just not sure how we're going to use it right now," Gordon said, frustration evident in his voice. Harvey sighed.

"She helped me, isn't that what she's supposed to do? I can't believe they would punish her for…being attracted to me. She still managed to do her job."

"It's part of the professional code of ethics. You should know about those Harvey, you're a lawyer."

"Yeah, but my ethics don't tell me that I can't fall in love with my client if I so choose to do so. I mean, who are they to dictate who you can and cannot fall in love with?" Harvey asked. It was more of a rant than an actual question.

"You're also not responsible for their mental well-being. She explained it very well. She wouldn't be able to treat you properly if she had those kind of ties to you—"

"I think Doc managed pretty well, considering that I'm not crazy and flipping a coin at you right now."

"Look, the rules are the way that they are for a reason. You should know this. How many cases have you prosecuted where someone thinks they have a good reason for breaking the law? You have to prosecute them anyway. This is the same way."

"So you're saying that she deserves to lose her job?" Harvey demanded angrily.

"I don't—personally, no, I don't think she does. But at the same time, the less we lie to the public, the better off we are. We can't afford for them to lose faith in the Gotham PD…or the law in general."

"It's not like we're covering up a murder. We're just…keeping her from losing her job."

"Let's just go to the hospital and talk to Dr. Connelly about it and see what she has to say," Gordon said, trying to calm Harvey. Harvey nodded, keeping his temper in check. They both fidgeted nervously, Gordon less so because he was driving. The former district attorney watched as the scenery of Gotham flew by. Gotham really was a good city. Looking at it, the architecture of the city was beautiful: smooth, clean lines, glass buildings, antique street lamps. For the first time since he had woken up in Doc's office, he had gotten a real look at the city that he had fought so hard for. Seeing Gordon work so hard for him, and Doc…it made him realize that he didn't regret fighting for it.

"What hospital is she in?" Harvey asked.

"St. Lucy's. We haven't gotten Gotham General back up yet."

When they pulled up in front of the hospital, Gordon had barely gotten the car parked when Harvey pushed open the door and headed inside. The police commissioner had to run to catch up with him. They went in through the emergency room door, and headed straight for the information desk. Gordon was slightly more in control of himself than Harvey, but both looked very concerned.

"We're looking for Elena Connelly," Harvey said in a rush.

"She came in earlier with a gunshot wound to the shoulder," Gordon added, flashing his police shield.

"She's back here. Follow me," the nurse said, leading them back into the emergency room. They could tell that she was trying not to stare at Harvey, but was failing miserably. It was strange, because Harvey had gotten so used to Doc just…accepting that was his face. He hadn't forgotten that he was monstrously deformed, but with Doc, he hadn't really paid that much attention to it. Now it was painfully being pulled to the forefront of his mind. Not the very front, though. That was reserved for Elena.

"Ouch! Are you sure that I have to stay the night?"

"Miss—"

"It's 'Doctor!'"

"Dr. Connelly, there is a risk of infection—"

"And if an infection pops up, I'll come right in. But I really hate hospitals," Harvey could hear her saying. He wasn't sure where she was, because most of the patients were hidden behind curtains, but the very sound of her voice was reassuring, even if she did sound doped up. They had probably pumped her full of pain killers as soon as they could, because bullet wounds were messy and painful. He was mostly surprised that she was still conscious.

"You're a doctor and you hate hospitals?" the doctor asked.

"Psychiatrist. I have a private practice."

"Ah, that makes more sense. Now, Dr. Connelly, I can let you go, but I would really feel better if you had some supervision tonight. Do you have someone who can stay with you?"

"I'll find someone. Just please, let me go home," Elena said. The nurse pulled back the curtain to reveal Elena propped on top of a hospital bed, wearing her yoga pants and a hospital gown. Her arm was in a sling, and Harvey was guessing that the wound in her shoulder had been stitched shut. As he entered the room with Gordon, Doc's face lit up with a smile.

"Did you come to rescue me?" she asked them. Harvey smiled, but Gordon still looked grim-faced.

"You should probably think about staying another night, if that's what the doctor says is best," Harvey said.

"Elena, he's right. If the doctor wants you to stay, you probably should," Gordon commented. She looked very unhappy about it all. Hospitals really weren't her cup of tea. The doctor, sensing the tension decided to leave them alone to talk over her options. He quickly, almost too quickly, scampered from the room. As soon as he was gone, Harvey sat himself on the edge of the hospital bed and took her hand. Gordon pulled the curtain around them to give them at least a little privacy.

"Doc, we've got a problem," Harvey said, trying to be gentle about it. Elena winced and sighed, bracing herself for the bad news.

"Okay…what's going on?" she asked, a tired edge on her voice.

"Our kiss was caught on one of the security cameras," Harvey explained. "Those tapes are going to be viewed by the Gotham Police department, and we need to think of some way to…handle this. Because the last thing I want is for you to get your license revoked for violating the code of ethics, but we can't keep those tapes from—"

"One thing that you have to keep in mind, Dr. Connelly, is that the public doesn't know that you were the one who treated Harvey. We could avoid all of this by contributing his treatment to another doctor," Gordon pointed out. "However, I think that the closer we stay to the truth, the easier things are."

"I agree. Let them see the tapes. I'll deal with the consequences," Elena said, her voice strong.

"Doc, you could lose your license—"

"I'm a grown woman, I made my choices, and I have to deal with that—"

"_I _ kissed _you_—"

"It doesn't matter, Harvey."

"It does matter! They should know that you didn't initiate the contact—"

Throughout the argument, Gordon just stood there, watching the two people in front of him. Both of them were arguing for what they thought was best. While it probably should have been annoying, it was a little bit uplifting in a way. He was seeing the old Harvey Dent in front of him. This was the man who had been willing to fight for Gotham. Now he was just channeling all that fight into trying to keep Elena Connelly from losing her job. This woman truly had brought back Harvey Dent, and it was amazing.

"Both of you, stop it. Harvey, this is her decision to make," Gordon finally said when he tired of their bickering.

"Gordon, she's going to—"

"Harvey, listen to me," she said, touching his face with her good hand. "I'm not going to hide this. I rehabilitated you, and I want everyone to know. Maybe it makes me selfish—hell, I know it makes me selfish—but I want them to know that I helped you. And I'm not about to not explore this….relationship just because of a review board. Also, I'm a grown woman. I made this decision, and have to live the consequences of it."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, a beautiful moment of unspoken communication passing between them. They didn't need to speak, because they both knew exactly what the other was thinking. Harvey hated that she was making this decision. He hated that she was going to sacrifice her career for him. But he had to respect that she was apparently one of the few people in the world that was willing to take responsibility for her actions. She hated that her decision was causing him so much turmoil, but she also wasn't going to keep her relationship or her work secret. But it was going to be okay, and they knew that. Somehow, they just knew that it was going to be okay.

He turned his face into her hand and laid a gentle kiss on her palm, before pulling her hand away. Finding himself highly amused at her current wardrobe, he couldn't help but crack a grin. After seeing him eyeing her clothes, she smiled at him tiredly, but he could tell that, despite the pain meds, she was hurting and tired. Flopping back against her bed, she closed her eyes and lie there for a moment, trying to collect herself, and trying to come to terms with the decision that she had just made.

"I hate to interrupt your moment, but we need to talk security." Gordon's voice abruptly interrupted her silent moment. She opened her eyes and looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'm talking about the fact that you two just killed Salvatore Maroni. As soon as this gets out, you're going to be hunted. You need security."

"He's right," Harvey said. His voice sounded strange to her, unless anything she had ever heard coming from him. She couldn't put her finger on it, and it bothered her immensely. "You're going to need protection—"

"You were there. You're going to need some, too," she whispered tiredly. With a frustrated sigh she closed her eyes before saying, "I just want to go home and get some sleep."

"The doctor wanted you to stay here—" Harvey began.

"With supervision, I can go home," she reminded him.

"It's going to be easier, security-wise, if she can go home. That's one house to guard as opposed to the dozens that we have to worry about here," Gordon said.

"As long as I have someone to stay with me, the doctor said he would release me. If I have cops crawling all over the house, there is definitely someone there to watch me."

"I can send a team over to your house now, they'll do a sweep for bombs, booby traps, that sort of thing. Then we'll move you home. Dent, as soon as the team is done at Dr. Connelly's, we'll send them to your place so you can go home," Gordon said.

"Last time I trusted your men, Gordon, someone died. Just now, Banks tried to kill Doc and me. You'll have to forgive me if I don't completely trust your people," Harvey said, his voice weary.

"What about Babs? We know she's trustworthy," Elena suggested.

"She'll come. I have some friends on the force that will be willing to come down. We'll get bomb-sniffing dogs out at your house, Dr. Connelly."

"That would be lovely. Thank you so much, Commissioner," she said, closing her eyes tiredly. Harvey, on impulse, lay back on the bed with her and pulled her against him. She smiled faintly, but was obviously content to stay with him. Gordon, sensing the intimacy of the moment, quietly excused himself by saying, "I'll go make arrangements."

For several moments, they just lay there together, propped up on a hospital bed. She rested her head on his chest and felt the strong, steady beating of his heart. It was comforting, knowing that in spite of all the craziness going on around them, he was steady. Just having her lying against his side was a comfort to him. She looked so tired, and he knew that as long as she was with him, he would take care of her and that she would let him.

She nipped at his earlobe, just enough for him to feel it, but not enough to hurt. He gasped in delight and turned to look at her, a twinkle in his eyes. Before either of them had time to think about it, they were kissing again, just as fiercely as they had earlier. This time, however, they were cut short by the pain that stabbed through Elena's shoulder as she tried to wrap her arms around his neck. Her cry of pain was muffled by his mouth. As soon as he sensed her pain, he pulled away.

"Are you alright?" he asked breathlessly.

"Absolutely," she answered. She rested her head in the crook of his neck; he could feel her breath against his skin, and he shivered. He tightened and arm around her protectively. "I don't think you should go to your place."

"I don't think I should, either," he whispered, running a hand through her hair.

"You should go tell Gordon."

"Yeah, I should." Instead of moving, he kissed her again. Fisting her hands in his shirt, a white button down he had gotten from Gordon, she pulled herself onto his lap. Her shoulder twinged, but she ignored it, determined to get what she wanted. Her hand, almost of its own accord, flew to his belt buckle, trying to get it undone. It was difficult with only one hand, and her quivering didn't help. He batted her hands away, and instead slid his under the waistband of her yoga pants.

"But we _shouldn't _be doing this," she said, pulling away. "Gordon's going to be back at any minute. I'm not going to be caught mid-coitus, especially in this awful hospital gown."

He grinned. "Those painkillers must be going to your head."

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"You're kissing a man with half a face." She shook her head as she ran her fingers across his face. When she reached the deformed part of his face, she didn't stop, or even pause. If anything, she was more attentive and tender.

"No…you're…lovely. Not perfect, but hell, who is? But you're a good man. I don't think that you realize that—"

"I killed people."

"I know."

"It's…I took another man's life."

"And I'm not excusing that. I sincerely wish that you hadn't killed those people. But I also know that you are sorry. If you weren't, you wouldn't—you feel remorse, and you keep waiting for punishment. You seem to think that anything bad that happens to you is punishment for what you did. In order to completely move on, you can't just hang on to what you did. You have to accept it, and instead of waiting on punishment…try focusing those energies on…improving Gotham instead."

"Return to my life of public service? I'm never going to get re-elected with a face like this. Besides, I think that's probably a very bad idea."

"Your face isn't the reason that people voted for you. They voted for you for the same reason I did: because we can all see that you love this city. You care about the city, and you care about the people. Your face isn't something to be ashamed of…it's a mark of your devotion to this city and its people. It's a badge of courage."

As she spoke, her eyes filled with tears. Tears of conviction and determination. Tears of love. She hadn't really dared to admit it to herself, but she could no longer keep that fact from herself. But the fact of the matter is, she was. The idea of him being ashamed of his face, something that he had no control over, was absolute anguish to her. Because in her face, he was the closest thing to perfection that she had ever known.

"Don't cry…are your pain meds—"

"I'm fine. I just want to go home. You should go talk to Gordon." He nodded silently and left her alone with her thoughts. The world had been turned on its left ear. She was going to have to go before a review board because of her conduct with Harvey, and there was a very good chance that she could lose her license, or at least get very strict probation. But she had made her decisions, and now she was going to have to live with them. And living with Harvey…that didn't seem like it would be too bad. No, not bad at all. Besides, with all the money she had in savings, she could probably afford to go back to school if she wished…she had always thought about English…

"Dr. Connelly, you're free to go now," her doctor said, pulling back the curtain for what seemed like the millionth time that night. "I just need you to sign these papers, and you can go." She snatched the pen from his hand and quickly signed the papers. Since she had never officially been admitted, she didn't have to leave in a wheelchair, which was lovely.

"You almost tore the poor guy's arm off, Doc. You gotta be careful with that," Harvey said jokingly.

"Have I mentioned that I want to get home and sleep?" she answered.

"Well, Gordon is going to take us to your place, where Babs is waiting with a trustworthy squad of Gotham's finest."

"Does that mean I can go to sleep?"

"Yes…you can sleep all you want." He helped her into the back of Gordon's car, and then climbed in the backseat with her. Five minutes later, Gordon looked in the rearview mirror to find Elena asleep on Harvey's shoulder, with Harvey's arm wrapped around her protectively.

"Dent…um…do you want to tell me what I'm going to find on those tapes? I mean…you two seem to be very—"

"It's just a kiss…"

"You sound like a sixteen year old who's been caught doing something that they shouldn't have been."

Harvey sighed resignedly. "She…physically, she brings out my inner horny sixteen year old. But…it's more than that. Jim, she brought me back. She brought me back from a very, very dark place. It's…I need her. I have never been more scared than I was in that moment when I saw her blood on my hands. I…I lost Rachel, and I was so afraid I was going to lose her, too."

"Well, you didn't. You're both okay, and we're going to do our best to keep you that way."

"Thanks, Jim."

"It's good to have you back, Harvey."

"I'm not the same."

"Well, no, of course not. But you're here, and you're surviving, and that's important, too."

They pulled up in front of Elena's house, and there were police cars parked in the driveway. Babs was standing on the front porch, waiting for them to arrive. Harvey gently tapped her on the shoulders, trying to wake her.

"Doc, you've gotta wake up now. You're home. You can sleep all you want to once you get in the bed, okay?" Harvey said gently. Elena sat up and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Harvey helped her from the back of the car and into the house. As much as he wanted to stop and study her home, to learn everything about her, he didn't. He followed her right back to her bedroom. She laid down on the bed, still clad in her clothes and tennis shoes.

"I'm going to go talk to Babs, okay?" he said quietly. She shook her head violently.

"Stay. Please?" she asked, her voice incredibly childlike. Harvey was helpless to resist that voice, and she knew it. He kicked off his shoes and dropped them on the floor. Hers followed soon after. Then he removed his belt and climbed into bed with her. He lay beside her on his side, his arm draped across her waist.

"You don't have to be afraid, Doc. There are policemen here to keep you safe," he whispered, trying to comfort her. She smiled lazily and reached under her pillow. She pulled out a small Berretta.

"I'm not," she said, cradling the gun like a child. He couldn't help but laugh.

"You might not be, but I am. You sleep with that thing?"

"Of course. Mal keeps me company."

"You named it Mal?"

"If you're going to share your bed with a guy, you should know his name," she said drowsily.

"You're not right," he whispered. "I love it."

"Yeah…it's a pretty good time," she said.

"Most time with you is. Now get some sleep. Mal and I will keep watch."

Before long, they were both asleep, but completely and blissfully happy, despite the mob of cops outside. When Babs checked in on them later in the evening, she couldn't help but thinking that she was looking at something that was meant to be.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, there you have it. Hope you liked it. If you did, if you didn't, let me know. =)


	7. No going back

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry this took me so long. Again, life has been crazy and midterms are about to arrive. I hope this lives up to your expectations.  


* * *

Returning to his apartment had been something that Harvey Dent hadn't been looking forward to. It was one of those things that he knew he would have to do, but desperately had hoped to avoid. But he had awoken in the afternoon in dire need of a shower, and he could hardly borrow Doc's clothes. So, accompanied by a trust friend of Gordon's, he had ventured into his apartment.

He, obviously, hadn't been back to his apartment since he had been injured or since…Rachel died. No, since Rachel had been taken from him. Because that's what had happened. The Joker had torn her away from him…they could have started a family together and…But no, he wasn't going to think of that. He couldn't. It would only lead him down a road that he didn't want to travel down. After all, a second chance was a very poor thing to waste.

But try as he might, he couldn't keep the ghosts at bay when he stepped into his apartment. Traces of her were everywhere. She had left him notes on the refrigerator. He expected to find her in his kitchen, juicing an orange. Some of her clothes were still in his closet, her toothbrush in his bathroom along with a hairdryer and a curling iron. He could practically hear her laughter coming from the closet. The smell of her perfume was still fresh in the bathroom…Everything was so fresh. The unmade bed slapped him in the face, a reminder of his lonely night before her death. He wondered if perhaps that was an omen, if he should have seen the whole thing coming.

Instead of lingering, wallowing in self-pity, lamenting the hardships of life, he moved quickly through the apartment, grabbed a small bag and quickly filled it with clothes, his toothbrush, and a razor. It was just enough to last him for a few days, until he had the strength to come back for a bit longer. Doc's voice had run through his mind, reminding him that it was not his fault, and that he had been gifted with a second chance. She was his second chance, and he intended to make the most of it.

He didn't like being away from Doc, and after just one moment of studying the place, a moment of quiet reflection and true acceptance, he closed the door and left, already trying to remember the number for his realtor. He would never be able to live there again. There were somethings you just can't go back to, and this was one of them.  


* * *

Pain woke Elena in the early hours of the evening. It wasn't the kind of pain that she could stomach easily, either. If it had been the dull, aching pain that usually came from over exertion, she would have been okay. Instead, it was the sharp, stabbing pain that shot through her every time she moved, and only got worse when she flew to the bathroom to get sick in the toilet. The retching only made the pain worse. After it passed, she stayed there for a moment, kneeled over the toilet, hoping that the pain would fade just enough for her to feel less nauseous.

"Doc? Are you alright?" Harvey called from the bedroom. She could hear the worry in his voice, and hated that she was the cause of it. When she didn't answer, he sprang from the bed and came quickly into the bathroom. She held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks as she waited for her stomach to misbehave once again. After a few moments with no more retching, she leaned against her cabinet, looking wan.

"Are you okay?" he asked again as he crouched beside her.

"Yeah. The pain just made me nauseous," she said.

"It's not a reaction to the meds?" She shook her head, but then realized that wasn't a very good idea and stopped dead.

"I just need another pill, that's all…What time is it?" He scrambled off the floor, trying to find a clock. Outside the window, the sun was setting, casting a beautiful array or oranges, pinks, and blues across the sky. It was most definitely evening. Glancing at the clock her bedside table, he told her, "It's 6:27." He quickly grabbed the pain pills off the table and took it back to her in the bathroom.

"Oh, good. I have some stuff I need to get done." She swallowed the pill with a sip of water.

"Um…no, Doc. It's 6:27 in the evening."

"What? But—"

"We slept through the day."

"Oh…right." She sighed, obviously still exhausted. He sat down next to her and pulled her against him, careful to avoid putting pressure oh her shoulder. "I'm still so tired. It's a result of the blood loss."

"I know. Go back to bed, Doc." He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her. Whether involuntary or not, she tensed at his words. He could tell that she wanted to be moving, getting things done, and it was killing her just sitting there and doing nothing. She was frustrated, tired, and in pain, which was not a good combination.

"I can't. I have things I need to do."

"No. You're going to go back to bed. You're still tired, and you're _in pain._"

"Harvey, I slept all day. The pain meds will take effect in a few minutes, and I'll be right as rain. I need to talk to Gordon and I have some other arrangements that I need to make. I didn't even have a chance to call my patients that were supposed to come in today—"

"Babs did it for you. She called all of your clients and told them that you'll be out of the office for the rest of the week."

"Good. Now, I need to talk to Gordon…again."

"About what?" Harvey asked, incredulous.

"I need to know what to tell the review board I was treating you for. We need to work out all the specifics of it. You should probably be there too, because they're going to want to interview my patients…yourself included," she said. He could tell that it was a fight for her to keep her eyes open. No wonder the doctor had wanted someone to supervise her. Stubbornness, thy name is Elena Connelly.

"I'll make a deal with you. You go back to bed, and I'll call Commissioner Gordon. I'll wake you up when he gets here." Realizing that it would be foolish to argue with his logic, she nodded. With their combined efforts and a little bit of help from the toilet seat, Elena managed to get to her feet and back in the bed. With her good arm, she reached under her pillow for the comfort of cold gunmetal under her fingertips.

The irony of getting comfort out of a gun was not entirely lost on her. After all, in Gotham, guns were the most commonly used weapons in violent crimes. That is, when the Joker wasn't turning cell phones into bombs. In the hands of the wrong people, yes, guns were a danger. But she had gone through legal channels and learned to wield a handgun with deadly accuracy, and it was a comfort to her to know that she was capable of defending herself.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to call Gordon." She nodded absent-mindedly while she studied her bedroom. She had inherited most of her bedroom furniture after her grandmother passed away. Her bed frame was black wrought iron with an intricate swirling headboard. All rest of the furniture was dark, polished ebony. The walls were painted a deep burgundy color to match her bedspread, which added warmth to the room. The centerpiece of the room, however, was her large marble-topped vanity. It was her favorite piece in the whole room [which is probably why she didn't care that it seemed out of place.] It was just like anyone else's vanity: topped with normal, girlish things. It was probably the only thing that was fairly normal about the room.

When she had first decorated the room, she had been determined to keep work somewhere else. She hadn't wanted her male company to overwhelmed by her work when they finally did see the inside of her bedroom. But the male company had been few and far between, and work had become more and more important. As a result, her briefcase was sitting no more than two steps from the bed. Her rather small bookshelf, which used to be crammed full of classics, was instead crammed with modern psychology journals.

To the outsider, it might seem like the room was a strange mixture of all things: warmth and coolness, hard and soft, personal and professional. But it was her sanctuary. She was always able to find some comfort here. Comfort in her books, in Mal, in her warm bed…and now in Harvey. When he had helped her into bed, both the night before and just a few minutes prior, he had just _fit._ He was the first man that had never been caught off guard at entering of room of such contradictions. Instead, Harvey had been so caught up in _her _that he didn't care that the room was a bit bipolar.

"So....I just got off the phone with Commissioner Gordon, and he said that he will be by around eight for us to get our stories straight," Harvey said, entering the room with a tray of food. "Babs said that you probably needed to eat something to keep the pain meds from tearing up your stomach. She wasn't sure what you felt like having, so she sent grilled cheese."

"Everyone likes grilled cheese," Babs piped up as she entered the room, perching herself on the foot of Elena's bed, and watched as the doctor tore into the grilled cheese like a ravenous animal. If Elena was tired…Babs was completely exhausted. She had only gotten a few hours of sleep before her uncle had called her and asked her to take guard. Some of the other officers had offered to relieve her, but she didn't trust anyone but herself to watch them. Over the past few months, they had become friends, and she wasn't going to let anything happen to them on her watch.

"God…you're a saint…" Elena said, completely preoccupied with her sandwich.

"A very tired saint. When did you last sleep?" Harvey asked.

"It's been a while," Babs answered.

"He's right," Elena said through bites of her sandwich. "You should use the guest suite. A shower probably wouldn't be amiss."

"You saying I smell?" Babs asked with mock anger.

"You're no daisy. It's down the hall on the left." Babs nodded.

"I'll take a break when my uncle gets here. You, in the meantime, need to get some sleep. You look awful."

"Thanks so much. That's comforting."

"I try. Now go to sleep," Babs said as she rose and left the room. Harvey climbed into the bed beside Doc, who had finished her sandwich. For the first time, she noticed that he had changed out of the clothes he'd been wearing when he brought her home from the hospital. She buried her face in the front of his shirt and breathed in the smell of him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. When he felt something hard pressed against him. Immediately, he knew exactly what it was.

"You want to tell me why you're so obsessed with firearms?" he asked, pulling Mal out of the waistband of her pants. "I mean, I'm the very jealous type. I don't know if I like you having another male presence in your life." She grinned sleepily and pulled away.

She stretched out and lay back against her pillows, leaving Harvey sitting up and staring at her, completely baffled. Her smile was completely inviting, as was the bit of skin peeking out of the bottom of her shirt, and he couldn't resist. His eyes asked the question, and hers answered without hesitation. He ran his fingers under the bottom of the shirt and pushed it up to expose more soft, creamy skin.

"Tell me," he whispered as he laid a kiss on her stomach, leaving no room for argument. Just for good measure, he kissed her hip, lingering longer this time. He heard the hitch in her breathing, which only egged him on.

"I've known how to shoot since I was a kid. I had three brothers, and they were all proud, card-carrying members of the NRA. My oldest brother, Devon, taught me how to shoot a handgun as soon as it was legal for me to have one. When he found out I was moving to Gotham, crime capital of the world, he bought me Mal."

He rewarded her with another kiss to her stomach, slightly higher than the previous. Pleasure was written all across her face; her hands clenched into fists, trying to keep from moaning aloud, especially with people so nearby. Harvey—realizing that she was putty in his hands—smiled and continued to ask his questions.

"Now, why Mal?"

"I liked the name."

"You're lying to me." Elena's reluctance to talk about the matter was obvious, but Harvey wasn't going to take silence for an answer. He slipped his hands inside the waistband of her yoga pants, and she gasped.

"That's not…fair," she said breathlessly.

"I agree. You know more about me than I do about you," he answered, his tone light, but it was obvious that he was only half joking. "Doc, tell me…please," he asked, his tone more serious. His hands stilled, which allowed her to think clearly once again.

"I named him after the TV show Firefly…Mal was the captain," she said sheepishly. Harvey couldn't help but laugh, despite how he tried to suppress it. His laughter was contagious, and soon Elena was giggling, but stopped abruptly because it made her shoulder twinge.

"You made such a big deal out of _that?_" he asked, his tone still playful. He rested his forehead against her exposed abdomen, and blew gently on her skin. She shivered in delight, and felt his smile against her skin. Her good hand, almost of its own accord, tangled itself in his hair. He began to move his fingers once more, reducing her to a quivering puddle.

"No…you should stop that…"she said, her eyes heavy-lidded.

"You don't really mean that."

"Door's open."

"That can be easily fixed."

"Not…first time should be together…" She really was having quite a hard time getting her thoughts organized into coherent sentences. It had been a long time since anyone had this effect on her, and now the floodgates had opened. Every urge that she had suppressed was bursting forth, and it was ridiculously hard for her to keep them in check.

"You're something of a traditionalist, aren't you?" he asked, pulling away. Not too far, though. He loved the feel of her against him, and felt almost as if a part of him was missing when she left his side. He was amazed at the very fact that he hadn't realized their attraction earlier than he did, because it was definitely there, and definitely bright-hot.

"There's nothing wrong with being a traditionalist," she answered, a tad defensively.

"I never said there was." He punctuated his response with a tender kiss on the forehead. She pushed his self control to the limits, but as much as he wanted her, he was also determined not to hurt her. She had a newly-inflicted bullet wound, which hurt like hell, and he wasn't going to risk tearing those stitches. His mental determination, however, did not stop his bodily responses. Being the astute woman, that she was, Elena noticed his response immediately.

"I need to call and see about the review board—"

"Are you seriously going to seek out punishment?" he asked, slightly confused. He had been under the impression that she wanted to keep her job.

"If I call them, they won't think that I'm trying to hide anything. If they find out through the grapevine, things are going to go much worse for me. At least this way, they'll know that I know I've done something wrong. Acknowledging guilt helps to get you off easier."

"So you're going to try to lose your job?"

"No, I said that I was going to turn myself in, I never said that I wasn't going to fight for my license. I really enjoy what I do, and I'm not going to give it up if I can help it," she said fiercely. Harvey believed her. There was a fire in his eyes that he hadn't seen before, even when they had been in danger. She had been more calculating then—their moment of passion being the exception—now she was completely fired up. So much for getting her to go back to sleep.

"I take it work is pretty important to you, then?" Of course, he was joking. If he had seriously been asking, Elena would have taken him to have his head examined. They both knew that her work was immensely important, possibly the most important thing in her life.

"I should…I should give you the warning label," she said. He was confused.

"The warning label?"

"Yeah. I've never been married, mostly because I've been married to my work, so to speak. I'm the kind of doctor that can't leave her work at the office. I can't guarantee you that I'm not going to get a call from a patient in the middle of the night and leave you alone in bed. That has ended more than one relationship…I think, um, you should probably know that in advance," she explained, both sheepish and sad. As much as she wanted to gloss over all her flaws to make sure that he only saw the best of her, she also knew that it was completely unfair to do so.

"I know. I was one of those people that you went to help in the middle of the night, remember? I'm not going to promise to be happy about it, but…it's a part of you. It's what makes you so good at your job. That's what made me so good at my job. It's also what's going to get both of us—_has _gotten both of us in trouble. I think it's all about balance."

His words alone would have been comforting enough, but the fact that he smiled gently only made her feel more secure. Truth was he was a bit relieved. There was a reason that he had never married. It was hard to find someone who understood that sometimes there are things that cannot wait. When a mob informant has information for you, it can't just "wait until morning." Just as a patient threatening to kill themselves couldn't be left until morning. Both of them had jobs that, at first glance, were nine-to-five, but in reality, were not.

Several times in the past two days—had it really been so short a time? It seemed like weeks, at least, or months—she had run her fingers over his face, as if committing his features to her memory. Now he did the same. He touched her angular chin, ran his thumbs across her strong jaw line…her curved, pixie nose. Her features were beautiful and perfect, and even more so when she smiled. However, the perfection of her features couldn't hide the dark circles under her eyes.

"You should get some sleep—"

"Everyone's telling me to sleep. I just slept all day. And the commissioner could be here soon—"

"I told you I'd wake you when he gets here."

"You promise?" She really wouldn't put it past him to not wake her up so that she could get more sleep.

"Well if I didn't, it would be a wasted trip for him, now wouldn't it?"

"Very true." She closed her eyes and let herself drift off to sleep. Harvey lay still beside her, watching her sleep for a few minutes. Once he was absolutely sure that she was asleep, he rose and went to find Babs, who was sitting on a sofa in the living room. To someone who didn't know better, they would think that she was relaxed. But Harvey, having spent lots of time around cops, knew that though she looked relaxed, she was far from it. Her movements were slow and languid, but, should the occasion call for it, she would be able to spring very quickly into action, taking any attackers off guard.

"Do you know when your—"

"My uncle should be here within the hour," she said knowingly. "He just called to tell me that he's leaving the office."

"Thanks." He sat down next to her on the sofa, but didn't relax. He was tense, and it was obvious. Babs had noticed that he had been tense since he had gone to his apartment and gotten some clothes. Harvey Dent was nothing if not stubborn, though, and had remained silent and terse, refusing to tell anyone why he was upset, though it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why. The only person that he hadn't been short with was Elena. The minute he had gotten back from his place, he had made a beeline for her bedroom, and had held her tightly against him, as if he was able to protect her from the worst of this world.

"You've really got it bad for her, don't you?" Babs asked, her tone affectionate.

"She…she gives me hope. She reminds me of everything I was fighting for, and inspires to take up the fight again. She's so stubborn—"

"Dare the pot call the kettle black?"

"She's determined to do the right thing, to turn herself in for this 'breach of ethics.' She is literally going call them up and tell them that she's seeing one of her patients."

"Would you rather her try to hide it and have her name dragged through the mud? At least this way, she has a bit of control over the situation."

"That's what she told me."

"Doc's a smart lady. You should let her do this her own way," Babs said.

"Like I could convince her not to."

Before they could continue their conversation, they heard a car pull into the driveway. Taking a look out the windows, they could see that it was Gordon's car. Babs went to answer the door, and Harvey went to wake Elena. He hated to wake her, because she looked so peaceful, but he had promised, and as he said…if he didn't, it was a wasted trip for Gordon. He put his hand on her hip and gently shook her awake.

"Gordon's here," he said. She just shook her head and sleepily pulled herself from the bed. Together, they walked back into the living room and sat on the sofa. The minute that he walked through the door and laid eyes on his niece, he sighed in frustration.

"You're no good to anyone when you're stretched this thin," he told her, even though he looked just as tired as she did. "You need a shower and some sleep. Go." Babs just nodded and rose from her place on the sofa and started to get her stuff together.

"There's a guest suite you can use if you just want to crash here for a bit," Elena offered. Babs smiled gratefully and headed down the hall. "You can borrow some clothes. They're in the—"

"I'll find 'em."

"Now, what do we need to discuss?" Gordon asked, knowing that it could be one of many things.

"I'm going to report myself to the American Psychiatric Association, and we need to iron out the details of just what it was I was treating him for. They're going to interview him and me, and we need to make sure that we've got our stories straight," Elena said.

"Not to mention, we've got to explain everything to the press, and there going to want interviews and it's going to look way suspicious if we decline them all," Harvey added.

"Well, Dr. Connelly, you're the psychiatrist. What do you think is the most plausible?" Gordon asked.

"In my opinion? Well, we've got a few options…"

* * *

In the morning, Elena disentangled herself from Harvey, which was a very difficult thing to do without waking him, and headed into the kitchen to make herself some coffee. There were police officers milling around, and they, too helped themselves to a few cups of coffee. Then, after searching through a drawer for the right number, Elena found the one she was looking for, and dialed it carefully.

"Hello, this is Dr. Elena Connelly in Gotham City. I need to report a breach of ethics…"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, so there it is. Please, let me know what you think, please. And again, I apologize for the delay.


	8. Laying it on the Line

**Author's Note:** I'm so so so so sorry for the delay. School caught up with me again, and everything went nuts. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait.  


* * *

Three days later, Elena was awakened by the sound of her alarm clock, bright and early at seven o'clock. She quickly turned it off before it could wake Harvey, and reluctantly left the warm comfort of his arms. The florescent lights in the bathroom were positively blinding, but her eyes adjusted quickly. While running her bath water, she mentally began to run over her to-do list, trying to get everything in order for the day ahead. It was absolutely imperative that she make the right impression on this review board if she wanted to keep her license.

Bathing was still difficult, though not as bad as it was earlier in the week. Her shoulder still twinged when she moved it, and it was very difficult to bathe properly with just one hand. Keeping this in mind, she had allowed herself plenty of time to take a bath and get dressed. Her meeting wasn't until ten o'clock, but she wanted to make sure that she had everything together and that she was impeccably dressed. And she wanted to make sure she had breakfast. Nothing was more embarrassing than a rumbling stomach when one needs to make a good impression.

The night before, she had laid out everything from soap to an outfit (that she now found herself dissatisfied with). She had done it to save time in the morning, but she also knew that she was going to double-check everything and that it wasn't going to save time at all. This in mind, she climbed into the tub and scrubbed from head to toe until her skin was red and threatening to bleed. Her mother had always said that cleanliness was next to godliness, and she needed all the help she could get today. Washing her hair was a bit more difficult, but she managed it alone, which was very good. The last time she had washed it—two days ago—Babs had to help her, and that was an awkward experience she never wanted to relive.

She toweled dry the best she could and pulled on her bathrobe. It was an old one that she hadn't worn in years. It was the comfort bathrobe that usually accompanied the comfort nightgown. Today, however, it stood alone. Then, pushing all thoughts of bathrobes and comfort from her mind, she began the long, laborious process of blow drying her hair one handed.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom and sat at her vanity to put on her makeup. Everything today was about professionalism. She went for brown eye shadows that would bring out her eyes, but not in a sexy, fun way. Minimal eyeliner, a little mascara and a neutral lipstick. Then she ventured into her closet and took out her black skirt suit and a white button down.

_No, it's too severe, _she thought. Then she tried a brown one with a green shell. _I look too much like Dr. Earth Mother. _Then a black pinstriped pantsuit with a blue top that matched the pinstripes. _Now I feel like Dr. 20s gangster. _ Then she tried her grey tweed pants and a vest with a red shirt. _ Too British librarian…God, my shoulder hurts. Why didn't I just go with the first one? _ Finally she went with the first black skirt suit and a warm green shirt with a black peep-toed pump.

Before heading downstairs for breakfast, she took a long look at Harvey, who was still sleeping quietly in her bed. For the past three days, he had been the last to fall asleep, and every waking minute, he wanted to discuss what it was that he was supposed to tell the psychiatrists that were going to interrogate him about Elena. She knew that he was rehearsing his story, down to every last detail, in his head long after she had fallen asleep at night. He thought he looked like a monster…in his sleep he looked completely innocent, and in his waking moments, he was concerned…but never a monster. She kissed his forehead gently and headed downstairs for breakfast.

Babs was waiting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee. Seeing that the coffee pot was empty, Elena set about making another. She also got out bread, cheese, and grapefruit and set about making several pieces of cheese toast. Babs noticed and laughed.

"Cheese toast?" Babs said, eyebrows raised.

"Well, it's too early for grilled cheese," the doctor replied with a grin.

"You're not going to wake Harvey?"

"No, not yet. You and I both know he hasn't been sleeping as much as he should be. Maybe before I leave," Elena answered.

"You know he's going to want to be there."

"They're going to talk to him anyway. Gold only knows he's been rehearsing our story enough."

"That's because if he screws up, he knows that you're the one that's going to get punished for it. At this point, he's beyond caring about whether or not he would go to jail. He's thinking about how his performance is going to help you keep your job. It's all for you. You must know that," Babs explained.

"I know."

"You don't sound very enthused."

"I'm just nervous. I would very much like to keep my license, and while this seemed like a very good plan a few days ago when I came up with it, I'm starting think that it's not," Elena confessed.

"Look, just calm down. You're just going to calmly face this, tell them your story, and no matter the outcome, you're going to come home to a man who loves you. That's nothing to worry about."

"Right." Elena pulled the toast out of the oven, sliced the grapefruit, set it all on two plates and put it on the table. They ate breakfast and had light, fairly meaningless conversation. It was mostly Babs trying to keep Doc's mind off of things. If Elena had been nervous before, she got even more nervous when she heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

"Trying to sneak out, are we?" Harvey said as he kissed her gently on the forehead.

"You needed the sleep."

"Well, I'll wish you luck and then go back to bed." He was lying and she knew it, and he knew that she knew it. But she let it go because she wanted the comfort of having him there to see her off.

"I made cheese toast, and there's yogurt in the fridge," she said, rising from the table.

"Well, I'll walk you to your car." He took her hand and walked her to the door and helped her into her coat. Despite having heels on, she still had to stand on tip-toe to kiss him. One of the policemen that was still posted at the house cranked her car, and Harvey stood on the porch and watched while she drove away.

He had complete faith that she could do this. He knew that she could get through this hearing and somehow come out of it with her job. Unless he screwed it up. That was the one thing he was determined not to do. If she could hold up her end of the deal, he would hold up his.

* * *

Elena was trying not to let her terror show on her face. Salvatore Maroni trying to kill her? Not a problem. An ethical review board? Petrifying. But she was determined to put forward a front, and so far, she was doing a damn good job.

The board was made up of three men and two women. One of the women—Dr. Smithson—looked a lot like her first grade teacher: reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, and a kind smile. The other woman, though, looked stern and considerably less forgiving. Elena pegged her for the "I have to prove myself by being super masculine" type. But the one that she disliked the most was Dr. Henreid—the tall, balding man on the end of the row. He looked especially stern, like a cranky, constipated Santa Claus. And unfortunately, he was asking all the questions.

"Now, Dr. Connelly, you turned yourself in for a breach of ethics, correct?" he asked.

"Yes, I did."

"And how, exactly, did you violate the code of ethics?" he asked.

"I…developed romantic feelings for a patient. I did transfer his care to another doctor, but there was a stretch there where I was treating the man I loved," she answered, her voice firm. Santa began to nod and furiously scribble on his clip board. Fortunately, the woman that looked like her first grade teacher looked considerably more sympathetic.

"What was the patient's name, Dr. Connelly?" Smithson asked kindly.

"Harvey Dent."

There was a long moment of silence as all the member of the board stared at her in amazement for a long moment. Then they looked at each other, unsure of what to make of the words that had just come out of Elena's mouth. Finally, Dr. Henreid spoke up.

"_The _Harvey Dent? The District Attorney of Gotham City?"

"Yes, sir. He suffered severe facial burns in an explosion. Consequently, his fiancé was killed another explosion at the same time. It was part of a plot by the Joker."

"And what were you treating Mr. Dent for?"

"My diagnosis was Borderline Personality Disorder. However, it was fairly severe and I was afraid that it would develop into Dissociative Identity Disorder as a way for him to deal with his grief. He suffered extreme burns to half of his face, and showed the beginning signs of developing another personality to go with that scarred half of his face. Much of the treatment was preventative." Elena explained.

"Can you describe the course of treatment, please?"

"Well, I used a combination of cognitive-behavioral therapy and pharmacology. I prescribed mood stabilizers to keep help control the mood swings and antidepressants. We had therapy sessions once a day during the work week, and I would meet with him on Saturday. He got Sunday off."

"And when did you begin your sexual affair with the patient?" Henreid asked bluntly. Elena froze, caught completely off guard by the question. She shouldn't have been. She knew that it would come up at some point, it was just so blunt that she wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm not having a sexual affair with him. I said we were romantically involved, and while this may lead to sex at some point in time, it hasn't yet. I kissed him a matter of hours after transferring him to another doctor, but that's it."

"You're not sleeping with your patient?"

"I share a bed with him, yes. But we're not having sex. Also, he is no longer my patient."

"Do you believe that this affected his treatment?" Smithson asked, trying to keep Henreid from asking anymore blunt questions.

"By the time my feelings developed, he was already doing very well. In the first few sessions I raised the hard questions, broke down some walls. The key to the whole thing, really, was his grief. It's amazing the things we'll do for someone we love. He had a bit of a vengeful mindset. He wanted revenge on the world that had taken his fiancé away from him. I pointed out that everyone has someone that they love, and that while life isn't fair, we have to do the best we can. By the time I realized that I was…that I had feelings for him, I was serving more as a grief counselor. The BPD was already under control," Elena answered.

"Do you think that this affected the care of any of your other patients?"

"Just taking the case took some time that I normally used to prepare for a session. At the same time, I don't think that it affected their treatment because I still thoroughly reviewed each file before our sessions. All of my patient files are available to you, should you want them."

"We will need to thoroughly examine them, and we will need to speak with all of your patients," Henreid said.

"They all have time set aside already for the visit, you could probably do it during their normal therapy times," Elena suggested.

"Also, you can have no contact with your patients until after we have spoken with them. This includes Mr. Dent. We're going to need to speak with him also."

"Of course. I kept a copy of his file in my records. The files are on my computer in my office. I also have hard copies in my file cabinets, and another digital copy on a flash drive at my home."

"Don't you think that's a bit overkill?" Henreid commented.

"Dr. Henreid, this is Gotham City. Harvey Dent was doing good work here, but in case you haven't noticed, it's still a very dangerous city. You can never be too careful. I'm surprised my office hasn't been burned down yet."

"If you don't mind my asking, Dr. Connelly, what happened to your arm?" Smithson asked politely.

"It was…After I transferred Har—Mr. Dent to the care of Dr. Herbert Banks. I got a call in the middle of the night from Dr. Banks, telling me that Mr. Dent was having a violent episode. Since I had just given him the case a few hours before, I went down to his office. It turns out that the Falcone crime family had him in their pocket and was just trying to get Harvey and I in one place. I was shot in the shoulder escaping."

Again, they were silent for a very long time, scribbling away on their little notepads. She hated not knowing what they were writing, but at least they looked slightly less hostile than they had when they had first arrived. That was a good sign for her. And she had always prided herself in the thoroughness of her patient files, which was also a good thing in a situation like this.

"Is it a common occurrence for you to see to a patient in the middle of the night?" one of the other doctors finally asked.

"It doesn't happen as often as it used to. I have several patients with major depressive disorder. One is fairly young, he's in college now. He tried to kill himself a year and a half ago. Before Harvey, he was the last that I had to get up in the middle of the night for. But, it does happen. If they need you, they need you. When someone is threatening to kill themselves, you can't wait until morning."

This answer seemed to go over well, also. Her racing heart was beginning to slow, and her breathing was following suit. She's starting to think that there is a very real possibility of her coming out of this with her license, and therefore, her job, in tact.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Connelly. We will be meeting with your patients this week. Just remember, please don't speak with them until after we have given you a all-clear," Dr. Smithson said, her voice warm. "You'll be hearing from us soon."

"Thank you for your time." With that, Elena rose from the chair where she was sitting and headed home. Of course, she wasn't looking forward to calling Babs, but she also knew that it was something that had to be done. As soon as she was in her car, she called.

"How'd it go?" Babs said immediately upon answering.

"I think it went well. We do have a slight problem, though."

"And that is…?"

"I can't have any contact with Harvey until after the review board has spoken to him. It's a way of making sure that the two of us don't get together and get our stories straight," Elena explained.

"Oh…well, we can send people to his apartment to make sure that—"

"No, not his apartment. He shouldn't have to stay in his apartment overnight alone. I'll come by and get some clothes, and then I can get a hotel room or something."

"He's not going to like that and you know it."

"Well, I don't like him being alone in his apartment."

"There would be people there with him, you know," Babs said pointedly.

"I know…I mean…I don't want him to have to be there without me," Elena confessed.

"I know. I'll go talk to him. Just take your time coming home, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

"What?!"

"She can't speak to you, or see you, or have any kind of contact with you until after all this interviewing business is over. She said that she would come and get enough clothes for a week, and would stay in a hotel or something," Babs explained to him calmly.

"No. No, that is not okay!" Harvey said. "This is her house. I'll just go to my apartment—"

"She didn't want you to go to your apartment."

"I think that's my decision to make, don't you?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes, it is, but I also think that it might be best for you to just take her advice for once. She's stressed, you're stressed, and being back in your old apartment without someone to fall back on…that's not going to help either one of you."

He sighed in frustration because he knew she was right. He wanted to be with Doc. He wanted to hold her and remind her that whether she was a shrink or not, he was still going to be there for her, and they could still be happy together. Instead, they were being forced apart, and he was not at all a happy camper. But he must comply. Breaking the rules were only going to get her in trouble, and he was the reason she was in this mess, after all.

It was a losing battle. Doc was determined, and Babs was determined to back her up, for whatever the reason. Those were two women that he did not want to argue with when they were being stubborn. Because of his years in a court of law, he knew when a case was lost, and his most definitely was. Instead of fighting it, he locked himself in Doc's at home office while she came and got clothes. He spent the whole time running over his story in his head for what had to be the thousandth time. Now the trick was going to be making sure it didn't sound rehearsed.

He could hear Doc's voice outside the door, talking to someone else. His fingers twitched with the need to pull the door open and take her into his arms. Instead, he clutched at the arms of the leather chair he was sitting in until he just can't stand it anymore. Harvey rose and went to the door. He leaned against it, imagining that she was doing the same thing on the other side. In reality, she was. An eternity later, it seemed, Babs knocked on the door, giving him the all-clear to come out.

"She's gone?" he asked.

"Yes. She's gone. But it's only until she gets her ruling from the review board. Then she'll be back. Tomorrow is your interview with them, so you should probably get more sleep than you've been getting," Babs suggested.

Harvey just nodded, and began the same ritual that Doc had. He went to the small space that had been cleared for him in her closet and pulled out his best suit. _Is it too formal? Do I look too severe? _Did he want his best suit, or did he want something more casual? _Does it matter what I wear? They're supposed to be judging what I say, not what I wear…okay, they're going to be looking at what I'm wearing._ Should he wear a hat to hide the disfigured half of his face? _No, hats have always looked ridiculous on me. Not to mention, this is my new face, people are going to have to see it at some point. And if Doc isn't ashamed to be seen with me like this, why should I be? Why can't I just flip a coin on this one? Oh, right…_

"Babs!" he called. She came running, literally, gun drawn. Upon seeing him standing in Doc's closet, she put the weapon away with a relieved sigh. He turned, holing the suit in one hand and a button down with khakis in the other. "You're a woman. Which one?"

"Well…the khakis are fairly casual, which might imply that you don't care about the interview, which you do. The suit might seem a bit too dressy…no, I'd go with the suit. But don't wear a white button down with it. Wear blue. Blue makes people think—"

"That you're more honest. I know. Former DA, remember?"

"Right. That's what this suit is going to say."

"Good. Maybe they'll see the full circle. Maybe they'll realize that Doc is what made me into this guy again."

"I think that's based more on your story than what you're wearing."

"C'mon, Babs, you're a cop. You know we all make snap judgements."

"True…I take it you want me to interview you again?"

"Yes, please." He said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Their bed. He hadn't actually thought of it as just her bed since the first night they had spent in it. It just felt…right. Sure, the room wasn't what he would have pictured her in, but it fit her. It fit them. They were an odd couple: a psychiatrist and her patient, a murderer and a doctor…he had taken lives, and she rebuilt them. And yet, somehow…here they were. They may have seemed like opposites, but they suited each other. Where he was hard, she was soft, and vice versa, and it worked for them.

"Alright, Mr. Dent," Babs said, pulling a chair up opposite where he sat. "What was Dr. Connelly treating you for?"

* * *

The next morning Harvey rose early and showered. He scrubbed himself clean, until his skin was red and aggravated. He shaved the half of his face that he could shave, wanting to look as upright and clean-shaven as possible. People were more likely to distrust someone with a little bit of stubble, and he didn't want to give them any reason to distrust him.

He pulled on his suit, taking special care to make sure that everything was as it should be. His belt buckle was perfectly centered, despite the fact that no one was really going to be able to see it. His tied was tied meticulously, and his suit jacket was lint rolled and triple checked for stains.

He ate a breakfast of cheese toast and yogurt, just as he had the day before. Babs said that Doc's meeting yesterday had seemed to go well, which, naturally meant that he had to do everything exactly the same way he had yesterday. So, cheese toast and yogurt. Except this morning, he work a makeshift bib, just to make sure he didn't get anything on his shirt. He ran over his story one more time with Babs, because they weren't going to be able to do it in the police car.

"Okay…ready?" Babs asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be. I'm starting to feel nervous…this all seemed so simple when we first came up with the plan, but it's feeling a little less so right now."

Babs couldn't resist a chuckle at his statement, remembering the conversation that she had with Elena the day before. It was funny how they were already starting to pick up on the little things about each other, despite the fact that they had only been together for a short time.

The ride to Doc's office seemed longer than it ever had. Babs tried to make light, meaningless conversation to keep Harvey's mind off what was at stake, but he wasn't going to let her off that easily. Instead, he did like he would have any case that he took to trial. He ran the story forwards and backwards in his mind, piecing together the puzzle, filling in all the little details that they could ask about. By the time they arrived at the office, he was feeling more nervous, but also more confident. He had to do this for Doc. Failure was not an option.

"Good luck," Babs said.

"I make my own luck," he answered with a smile.

The panel of shrinks was not exactly what he would have expected. Harvey had been expecting people about his age, trying to look authoritative. Instead, they were mostly all older gentlemen, and two ladies. One of them reminded him of his mother. She seemed like she would be perfectly at home baking cookies with him at Christmastime. The older man on the other end, however, reminded him too much of a peeping Tom that he had prosecuted one time. He looked about as happy as the peeping Tom had after Harvey had convicted him, too.

All of them, the kindly motherly doctor being the exception, could not hold back their looks of horror upon seeing his face. The motherly one just looked a bit sad. He forced himself not to grit his teeth or clench his jaw because he knew that they were going to be able to see it. Instead, he took it in stride, all the more determined to prove to them that he was a normal human being thanks to Doc's efforts.

"Good morning, Mr. Dent. I'm Dr. Smithson," the mother-woman said. "How are you?"

"I could complain, but I won't," he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Smithson smiled at his joke, and the others tried but feel short.

"I'm Dr. Henreid. We're going to be asking you some questions about Dr. Connelly and your relationship with her. Do you understand?" the peeping Tom asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Alright. Can you start off by telling us what she was treating you for?" Henreid asked.

"It was Borderline Personality Disorder stemming from the loss of my fiancé," he said calmly. He tried to keep the picture of Rachel's face from coming to his mind, but he couldn't. Instead, he imagined her encouraging him to be happy, because that's what she would have wanted. "My grief was…I took it very hard, and Dr. Connelly was afraid that I was going to develop another personality. She said it isn't uncommon for people to develop something like that after a traumatic experience."

"Can you tell us a bit about your treatment?"

"I stayed in one of the patient rooms here. She usually doesn't use them, but she was afraid that I might hurt myself or someone else, so I stayed here with constant supervision. She used a combination of cognitive-behavioral therapy and mood stabilizers."

"Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes. She was trying to treat my behaviors and alter my thoughts that were causing those behaviors. The mood stabilizers helped with my mood swings."

"When did you two begin your relationship," Henreid asked bluntly. Finesse was definitely not his thing, Harvey decided. That or he was just really cranky.

"Dr. Connelly came to me and explained that she was in violation of one of her ethical principles. She was too close to me as a person, and that had the potential to interfere with my treatment. She explained that it was for my own good, and that she was transferring my care to Dr. Herbert Banks. That night, he called her and told her that I was having a nervous episode and she came running."

"He told her you were having a nervous episode? You weren't?" Smithson asked gently.

"Dr. Banks was working for the Falcone crime family, and it was all part of a plan to kill the two us. They had heard that she had cured me, and they didn't want either of us available to work against them. She came running and they locked us in a room together and I kissed her."

"So, you didn't actually begin a relationship until after she had transferred you as a patient?" Smithson asked with a pointed look down the row at Henreid.

"That is correct."

"Have you seen Dr. Connelly since yesterday?" Henreid asked roughly.

"No. She has been staying somewhere else until all of this has passed."

"Are you in a sexual relationship with her?"

Harvey tried his best to hold back the anger in his voice, but it was very difficult. He could tell that Henreid had already decided that Doc was guilty before he even came to Gotham. Well, Harvey was just going to have to prove them wrong.

"No. Not right now. Doc was shot when we tried to escape, and bullet wounds are…nasty. Besides, she's a bit of a traditionalist," he said with a fond smile.

"So, do you think that her feelings for you affected your treatment?"

"I couldn't say. If they did, I can't tell you that it wasn't for the better. I used to be the DA of Gotham City. After my fiancé died…I was a different man. A completely different man, that no one believed could be rehabilitated. Doc had faith in me. I annoyed the hell out of her in the beginning, but…she made things clear to me that had never been clear before. I thought that the world was a cruel, unfair place before her. She convinced me that while life isn't fair, it is worth living. She transformed my world for a dark, apocalyptic place into something worth fighting for again. And if that happened because she had feelings for me, than I can't regret that she did.

"She is still the only person that doesn't care about my scars," he continued. "She doesn't take care not to look at that side of my face. Doc embraced it…she embraced all of me. I was convinced that I was monster, and that my face had been altered to suit me. Doc convinced that these scars are not because I'm a monster, but that they're a mark of courage. They're the marks of a fighter. And now I'm willing to fight for this world again because of her."

With that, he rose and left the room, leaving the panel completely speechless.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, there it is. I hope you enjoyed. Please review and let me know. =)


	9. The Verdict

**Author's Note: **Huge thank yous to every who read/reviewed/favorited/altered. That's a bright spot in my otherwise too busy days. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long. I hope the chapter is worth the wait.

* * *

As he sat in the car on the drive home, Harvey tried not to second guess himself. It wasn't working. While walking out after giving a speech like that was very dramatic, he was starting to wonder what kind of impression it made on the review board. It could seem rash and impulsive, which was not the message he wanted to send. What if they hadn't been done with their questions?

"Stop it," Babs said knowingly from the driver's seat.

"What?"

"Stop second guessing yourself. I can see it written all over your face. You went in, said your piece, and there's nothing else you can do about it. There's no use in crying over spilled milk."

"I walked out," he said, his voice oddly calm. Now it was Babs' turn to look concerned.

"You did what?"

"They asked me if I thought her feeling for me affected my treatment. I told them exactly what I thought—that it didn't matter because I am better now—and walked out."

"Sounds like you have a flare for the dramatic," she answered, her voice deadpan.

"How do you think that's going to reflect on Doc?"

"The fact that you could give that speech is a testament to her skill as a doctor. Before her, all you wanted to do was flip coins and talk about how unfair it all was. They aren't stupid. They'll make the right decision."

They rode in silence for several minutes. Harvey continued to run over his testimony in his head. The more he ran over it, the more he was sure that he had said the right thing. Yes, maybe walking out dramatically wasn't really the wisest idea in the world, but he had kept his story straight. Hopefully his emotional speech would tug at even cranky old Henreid's heartstrings. While logic was usually the best way to win someone over, emotional appeals could be what cements the victory. Yes, appealing to emotion was probably the way to go.

Babs knew that he was running over everything in his mind, replaying it to see if there was anything he could have done better. She had complete confidence that Elena would be able to keep her job. After all, she had done what was important: she had given him up. She had been prepared to never see him again, all for his own good. She had done the professional thing and transferred his care. And while, yes, some of the people on the review board were hard asses—at least, that's what Harvey said, but he was biased—they could not deny that she had kept her patient's best interests at heart.

What was really worrying her, though, was that tiny little piece of her that was preparing for the 'what if' situation. What if Elena didn't get to keep her license? The good doctor had a back up plan, and plenty of money to follow through on them, but Harvey was not going to be a happy camper. He would blame himself, despite the fact that it really wasn't his fault, and there wasn't really anything that he could do about it.

Suddenly, her phone rang. She answered it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Babs? It's Elena."

"I see that—hear that. How are you?"

"Holding up pretty well. I need to do some laundry, but—"

"Harvey's fine," she said, cutting off her friend. She hadn't meant to develop a friendship with the woman she was protecting, but somehow, along the way, it had happened.

"Oh, good. I was worried."

"I know you were. You're not the type to call me and talk about laundry. Not to mention, most of your clothes are dry clean only. Harvey's testimony went well. Apparently, he made a dramatic statement and walked out."

Elena was silent for a long moment, before Babs heard her chuckling on the other end of the line. Laughter was a weird sound on Elena, mostly because she had rarely ever heard it from the good doctor. She had only been around Elena since she had started treating Harvey Dent, but those few months had not exactly been filled with laughter.

"He walked out? That's great…I bet Henreid almost wet himself, he would be so angry."

"I'm glad that's a source of amusement for you."

"At this point in time, I'm looking for any and all amusement that I can get."

Harvey leaned in close, trying to listen to the conversation, if only to hear Doc's voice. It had been strange waking up without her that morning. Strange in a way that he didn't like. Babs noticed, and put the phone on speaker.

"Well, I'm sure his face would have amused you. He didn't look like a very happy camper," Harvey said. "But I'm done giving them my statement. Does this mean you can come back to the house?"

"I can't. They might want to follow up with you, since you walked out…which means that I shouldn't be talking to you."

"Do you—" Harvey began. Babs cut him off.

"Do you know when you'll be able to come home?"

"I don't imagine it will be any later than the end of the week."

"Good. Harvey misses you."

"Yeah. I miss him, too—" Elena's phone was breaking up. "I'm about to get into an elevator. I have to go."

"Okay. We'll see you…when we see you," Babs said.

"Right…and tell Harvey…nevermind. I'll talk to you soon." And then she was gone. Harvey stared at the phone as if a lifeline had just been taken away from him.

"What else did she say?" he asked once he was able to speak.

"That she needs to do laundry."

There was silence in the car again before Harvey started to chuckle. Her future was on up in the air and she was worried about doing laundry? It was more than a little absurd, and Harvey couldn't resist a little laughter. He needed it, and he definitely knew that Elena needed it. Since he had come into her life, everything had been chaos for her, and he felt a pang of guilt.

_No, _he thought. _Doc doesn't blame you for this, and she's gotten the short end of the stick. Take a leaf from her book, and think about something else._

"You know," he said. "I think I'm running out of clean clothes. I could stand to do some laundry myself."

Four days later, after an entire afternoon of it, Harvey Dent decided that he was really bad at doing laundry. Until now, he had always had someone else to do it for him. It was house keepers or girlfriends or his mother. So far he had shrunk two shirts and turned a white shirt light blue. He stood in Doc's laundry room, staring in confusion at the faded shirt in front of him. Lights went with lights, and darks went with darks…blue was lighter than navy…And why had those shirts shrunk? He had made sure he used cold water…or was it hot…?

"You know, if you wash everything on permanent press, you won't have that problem."

Immediately recognizing the voice, he turned to see Doc standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest. He dropped the shirt and moved across the small room faster than he had ever thought possible. He wanted to snatch her up, crush her against him, and never let her go. Her shoulder was still healing, though, and he didn't want to hurt her, so instead, he kissed her.

It was a gentle kiss at first, just a brush of lips, but that wasn't enough for either of them. She threw her good arm around his neck and pulled him closer, and his arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the floor. Caught up in the kiss, she tried to move her bad arm, and felt a twinge of pain. Despite her best efforts to hide it, Harvey noticed and set her down.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"Fine. Just a twinge," she answered. She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she tried to contain her breathlessness. Her hair was tousled about her face, and he couldn't resist running his fingers through it. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, but was not content. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him again, even more fiercely than before. Any thought of her injury was thrown to the wind as she let her hands roam freely over his body. He pulled away, too worried about her shoulder to proceed any farther.

"Your shoulder—"  
"Is fine. Don't worry, I know my limits." She leaned against him, breathing in the smell of him. He gently kissed the top of her head and did not miss her sigh of exhaustion.

"Well, let me put these in the washer, and we can get some sleep."

"First you have to sort them right. The light colors—whites, grays, skin tones—go together, and the dark colors go together. And don't ever wash colors with hot water," she tried to explain as he loaded the clothes into the washer. She pressed the proper button to ensure no fading would occur. With a glance at the wall, she noticed the time. "It's only seven o'clock."

"You're tired."

"So are you. Frustrating laundry will do that to you. Movie?"

"No chick flicks," he said with a grin.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she answered, smiling back at him. A smile wasn't enough, though, so she kissed him once again. They settled on the sofa and tried to lose themselves in _Die Hard _for a few hours, but it wasn't working. Harvey was restless, and Elena was too tired. If she stopped moving, she would fall asleep. So instead of sitting still and watching the movie, she started to busily clean her house, something she hadn't had a chance to do in quite some time.

She started in the kitchen, scrubbing the countertops and cleaning out the refrigerator. While she had been gone, no cooking had taken place—other than Harvey's cheese toast—and the fridge was full of take out boxes. When he found her cleaning the mess in the fridge, Harvey more than willingly joined in, just to have something to do. Not to mention, he couldn't let her mop the kitchen floor with her shoulder. That just wasn't going to happen.

Elena sat perched on her kitchen table, watching the former district attorney mop her kitchen floor. It was not a sight that she had ever thought she was going to see in her lifetime, but there he was. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and he was mopping the floor in sock feet. She felt something in her chest—it was not an unpleasant feeling—as she watched him. This domestic Harvey Dent was…it was a new side to him that she was seeing and it was a side that only she had seen.

"Have you ever mopped a floor before?"

He sheepishly glanced at the floor. "There's a first time for everything, you know."

"I see that. You look so…domestic."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…it's nice," she said. He put the mop in the bucket and set it in the corner and stood next to her, admiring their handiwork. The kitchen was spotless, and smelled clean for the first time since they had gotten there. She leaned against him and took in the smell of him. Mostly he just smelled like Pine Sol and Clorox wipes. "Bathroom?"

"Lead the way."

They repeated the process in the guest bathroom. Doc organized wiped everything down with a Clorox wipe while Harvey mopped and took care of any heavy duty scrubbing that needed to be done. He bumped into her as they both tried to get to the same place at the same time. By way of apology, he kissed her lightly.

"I think they're going to faint when they see a bathroom this clean," Doc commented.

"Ah, they're Gotham City PD. They're made of tougher stuff," he answered.

"I think law enforcement in Gotham is made of tough stuff in general."

"The people of Gotham are tough in general. Especially this one shrink I know. She got shot and didn't let it slow her down at all."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It was crazy…and I'm realizing now that I haven't asked you about the review board."

"I'm meeting with them in the morning, and they'll give me the verdict. I'm nervous as hell," she confessed with a sigh.

"Hence the cleaning?" he asked. She nodded. "Well…I'll be here no matter what happens."

"Yeah?" she asked, a smile on her face. He nodded.

"Good. Now…let's go to bed. We need sleep to face that review board in the morning."

* * *

"Elena, Harvey…wake up." Babs gently shook the former district attorney awake. He sat up, blinked the sleep from his eyes and glanced at the clock. 8:30 glared back at him in bold red numbers. He tapped Doc on the shoulder.

"Doc…wake up." Elena sat up slowly and yawned. She glanced at the clock and smiled. It was the first time she had gotten more than six hours of sleep in the past few days. She was amazed at how quickly she had gotten used to sharing her bed with another human being. It had been strange to wake up those nights and not have him beside her. But that hadn't been a problem last night, and she was feeling great.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything," Babs said as she left the room, a grin on her face. She would never admit it, but she had missed Elena too, and her return had lightened the atmosphere considerably. Not only did this mean that Babs had another female to talk to, but it also made her job easier. It meant that Harvey wasn't pacing or fidgeting nervously, and that was always a good thing.

Elena showered quickly, which was getting much easier. Her should still twinged every now and again, but there was no more sharp, stabbing pain filling her every waking moment. It took her only forty-five minutes to get ready this time, as opposed to the two hours it would have taken her earlier. Harvey still beat her getting dressed, though. It must be a guy thing, she thought.

He was looking very nice in a navy suit. She had decided to go with her brown tweed pants and vest. _Yes, _she thought, _I may look like a librarian, but it doesn't matter now. They've already made up their minds. _ Instead of her typical bun, she let her hair fall loosely about her face. It softened her features and made her seem less severe and more sympathetic. _This way, they'll feel bad if they have taken my license. _

Babs had cheese toast waiting on them when they came into the kitchen. Both Harvey and Elena took special care not to get anything on their clothes. The scene was so familiar to Babs that she just had to laugh. There was something refreshing in the knowledge that whatever was going to happen, there was really nothing they could do about it now. It made everything easier to deal with. They had done what they could, and it was out of their hands. That didn't stop them from being nervous, but they were slightly more relaxed.

"You're meeting them at ten?" she asked.

"Yes, which means that we should leave…now," Elena answered with a glance at her watch. "There's going to be traffic, and I would rather be early than late."

Babs nodded and the three of them headed out to the car. The drive there was silent, but not an awkward silence. There was just no need to speak. They all knew that they were nervous, but voicing it was only going to make it worse. Instead, Elena and Harvey sat in the back seat, her clutching his scarred hand in her two tiny ones. He gave her a confident smile as they pulled up in front of her office.

"Break a leg…in the not-literal sense," Babs said as they walked into the building.

Harvey let go of Doc's hand, expecting to wait in her lobby while she went in to speak with the review board. Instead of letting him go, she kept a hold of his hand. They stopped in front of the door to the conference room.

"Come in with me," she said.

"What? Is that really—"

"Whether they let me off or not…good or bad, I want you with me." He nodded silently and held her tightly to him for a minute.

"I need you with me," he whispered.

"Let's do this thing." He nodded and pulled open the door. The five people that made up the review board were sitting just as they had been when they had interviewed them earlier in the week. Their expressions were about the same, too. Henreid did turn a funny shade of red when he saw Harvey follow Elena into the room, but he didn't say anything. Dr. Smithson smiled warmly at them and gestured for them to sit.

"How are you this morning, Dr. Connelly?" Smithson asked.

"I'm…doing okay. How are you?"

"Just fine, thank you."

"We spoke to most of your patients, and they all spoke very highly of you," Henreid said grudgingly. "I was surprised by your dedication."

Elena didn't know how to respond to that, so she remained silent. Harvey just stared coldly at the psychiatrist, not bothering to hide his dislike.

"None of your patients noticed a change in your behavior during the time that you were treating Mr. Dent. They said that if you had taken on another patient, they never noticed," said a stern-looking woman in the middle.

"You understood that it was in violation of the ethical principles to treat someone that you were too close to. You were right to transfer Mr. Dent's care to someone else, and we can hardly fault you for the…questionable character of Dr. Banks. We have decided that you did the professional, responsible thing in the case of Harvey Dent," Dr. Smithson said. Elena smiled, though she did feel a "but…" coming on.

"However, since you have admitted that you fell in love with a patient," Dr. Henreid spoke up. "You are going to be on probation, and under careful supervision for the next few months. Dr. Smithson—" He practically spat the poor woman's name—"will be supervising you. She will need to keep a copy of your patient files so that she may become more familiar with your cases."

"Of course. I have them in my office," Elena said helpfully.

"If this happens again, Dr. Connelly—" Henreid began.

"It won't, sir," she answered, cutting him off.

"_If _it does, we will not be so forgiving."

"You won't have to do this again," she said, a hard edge on her voice. "I'm assuming that I'll be able to resume seeing clients on Monday?"

"Yes. I'll meet you here at nine in the morning, and I'll mostly be shadowing you throughout the day, just watching what you do and taking some notes," Smithson said, not trying to hide her dirty look at her peer down the row.

"Okay. I can get you the files out of my office and we can all be on our merry way," Elena said, rising from her chair. Smithson rose and followed her to her office, which was just right down the hallway. As she was unlocking the file cabinet, Smithson pulled the door shut behind her. Elena stared at her, confused.

"I think that you should know something…I have resided over these types of hearings for the past ten years, and never have I heard testimony like I did from Harvey Dent. He spoke…more than highly of you. He made us believe in you. The way he was speaking…I didn't care if you had broken the rules or not, because he made us love you. For a minute, I think that even Dr. Henreid forgot to the cranky bastard—excuse my language—that he , I know you followed protocol and did what you were supposed to, but what I'm saying is…Harvey Dent is a keeper."

"Trust me, I know," Elena answered. She pulled some of her files from her file cabinet and handed them to Dr. Smithson. "I'll see you Monday."

She and Harvey walked out to the car where Babs was waiting for them, smiling from ear to ear. They plopped into the backseat, all grins and laughter.

"I take it that went well," Babs said.

"I get to keep my job. That's just a tad exciting," Elena answered.

"No kidding."

"Dr. Smithson was singing your praises," Doc said with a glance at Harvey.

"How's her singing voice?" he asked innocently. Doc just shook her head.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur for all parties involved. Doc vaguely remembered watching a movie, reading a bit, and reorganizing her patient files. Harvey chatted with the officers on duty, and made everyone dinner. Babs took a nap and woke up in time for dinner. By the end of the day, everyone was exhausted, despite the fact that none of them really did anything too rigorous.

Elena retreated to bed around ten thirty, and Harvey followed shortly after. Normally, Elena retreated into her bathroom or her closet to change clothes. Tonight, she left her closet door wide open as she stripped out of the blue jeans that she was wearing. She was carefully unbuttoning her blouse when she noticed that Harvey was standing in the doorway, staring at her. Immediately, she stopped unbuttoning her shirt and turned to face him, hands at her side. A long moment passed between them as they stared at each other in silence.

"Um…could you help with the buttons? My shoulder is hurting a bit" Doc asked innocently. Before the question was out of her mouth, he was already standing before her, his hands working on the buttons that ran down the front of her shirt. She could feel the heat from his body, and it took all her willpower not to pull close to him and revel in him. He got the buttons undone, and opened the shirt, and saw a well-healing wound and a sly grin on Doc's face.

"You're not feeling a bit of pain are you?" he asked.

"Not right now," she whispered.

"Doc…you…we shouldn't—" She silenced him with a kiss, and her nimble fingers began to work on his shirt buttons. His hands worked on her bra clasp, and quickly got it undone. It was not a pretty bra, but a practical one: skin-toned, front clasping and, above all, sturdy. It suited her. A practical bra for a practical woman…well, usually practical woman.

"Bed, please," she said against his lips. He nodded, picked her up, and carried her across the room to the bed, where he gently set her down. She immediately pulled him down with her, and pushed his shirt off his shoulders. To her chagrin, he was wearing an undershirt. He quickly pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.

The light from the closet was faint, but she could still see the scars on his left side. Obviously, his face was the worst—most scarred, not the worst—but his shoulder was pretty badly burned as well. The burns had healed on their own, but left behind massive red scars. The scars extended well down his perfectly formed arms, gradually getting lesser in degree and disappearing just above his elbow. She ran a hand up his arm, tracing the path of the scars upward until she reached his face. She pulled him down to her and kissed him like she couldn't get enough of him.

He felt her hands at the waistband of his pants, and knew that his self control was at an end. While he normally prided himself on self control, he didn't think that he could stop if it went any further. Of course, he wasn't sure that he wanted to stop. She was driving him crazy, touching all the right places.

"Doc…if we don't stop now, I'm not going to be able to," he whispered.

"Is that a problem?" she asked. He wasn't sure exactly what happened to his pants, just that they were gone, and that Doc was practically naked beneath him. In the low lighting, he could tell that despite her assurances that he wasn't going to hurt her, she was a bit hesitant about something.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I just...I love you." The words came out in a rush, and Doc's cheeks burned. Luckily, the shadows made it hard to tell. Harvey smiled. A huge, ear-to-ear, genuine smile that went all the way to his eyes. He kissed her temple lightly.

"I love you, too."

It showed in every touch. He was gentle, taking care not to hurt her shoulder, but still giving her pleasure at the same time. She was giving and tender, kissing and touching and withholding nothing. His pleasure fed in to hers, and hers to his. When he touched her, she knew that she knew that no one else in the world was going to ever make her feel this way. For the first time in a long time, she felt cherished, and he felt like a whole person again.

But for his peace of mind, he had to ask one more time. "Are you—"

"Don't." She silenced him with a finger over his lips.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she said, pulling him back down to kiss him again.

And he didn't.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, there it is. I hope you enjoyed it. If you think I need to change the rating, let me know and I can do so. But, as always, please review and let me know what you think. I love feedback of any kind.


	10. Always, please

**Author's note: **So, so, so, so sorry for the wait. Please forgive me. Here is the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy it, and that it was worth the wait. Also, a huge thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited/alerted...it makes my day.  


* * *

When Harvey awoke in the wee hours of the morning, Elena was still asleep, snuggled against his side, her head resting on his chest. He kissed the top of her head gently. All his instincts screamed that he should be gentle with her, but his hormones were definitely calling to his wild side. As much as he wanted to wake her up and have an encore performance, he just couldn't bring himself to do so. For the first time all week, she was actually still in her sleep. Until tonight, she had tossed and turned. Now she looked so peaceful, so carefree. It was like she wasn't spending every waking moment worrying about getting killed by the mob. No, it was enough to just have her in his arms.

It was a very new thing, holding Doc. Obviously, she wasn't the first woman that he had held in his arms, but she was different from Rachel. Rachel was soft and round—the traditional idea of a woman. Doc was hard, all muscle from her head to the tips of her polished toes. He was a gentleman, and she was injured, and he had tried to keep from hurting her. She did not make things easy for him, however. Doc had a bit of a wild side, and he could feel it, just beneath the surface, just dying to come out. He had a feeling that if she hadn't been constrained by that arm things would have been very different indeed.

Despite his contentment at being in bed with Elena, he couldn't help the feeling of nervousness that was building in the pit of his stomach. He felt as if he were in the calm before the storm. He was just waiting for the bottom to drop out and rain to come falling down on his parade. He couldn't resist pulling her just a bit closer, as if to reassure himself that she was still there and safe. Her eyelids fluttered as she began to wake. As she felt him beside her, she smiled and ran her hand across his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath her hands. He smiled down at her.

"Good morning," he whispered. She groaned and clenched her eyes shut, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I don't want to get up," she answered with a contented sigh.

"I think morning was a loose interpretation. It's not even light outside yet."

"Good." Doc nipped lightly at his scarred shoulder, then kissed the place where she had bitten. He cupped her chin and titled her face towards him, studying her face. It was strange to see her without her glasses on, and even stranger to see her being still.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"How are _you _feeling?" Doc was only half joking when asked the question. After all, it was the first time that he had made love to anyone since Rachel had died, and it would be perfectly understandable if he was feeling overwhelmed or if he was missing his fiancé.

He was thoughtful for a long moment. Yes, he had thought of Rachel, but he recognized that she would want him to move on with his life, and she would want him to be happy. No, it was that ominous feeling, the waiting on something bad to happen, that was gnawing at him.

"I keep waiting for something to go wrong. It all just seems too perfect—"

"Harvey Dent is telling me that things feel too perfect? Whatever happened to optimism?"

"Last time…Things were looking up. We had the mob scrambling, half their guys in jail…I was dating Rachel…" For a moment, he seemed lost in his reminisces. It would be easy to get lost in his memories, but then each of those memories of seemingly good times led to memories of the downfall. The Joker, the explosion, Rachel's last words to him…

_I don't want to live without you, and I do have an answer for you. And my answer is yes…Harvey, it's okay. It's alright. Listen, some—_

He cringed as he felt the explosion in his mind. Without realizing that he was doing so, he pulled Elena closer, as if his mind were trying to remind him that she was there and solid and alive.

"I keep waiting for the shit to hit the fan. There's really no other way to put it. I keep waiting on something to go wrong, because everything seems to be going so _right. _Things can't just go this perfectly—I did terrible things. I killed people…It doesn't seem right that things go so well for me now after what I did—"

"And now you're waiting for the sky to fall on us," she finished.

"Something like that," he whispered, tracing patterns on her belly. She smiled lazily.

"Listen, you know better than anyone that isn't how it works. In story books, the bad guys always get their comeuppance, and the hero always rides off into the sunset with the damsel in distress—"

"The problem is, I don't know if I'm the bad guy or the hero."

"You killed Salvatore Maroni to save our lives. You tried to bring down the mob. I would say that's pretty heroic."

"And before that I was the one killing people."

"You weren't yourself, and you know it. You have to stop waiting on everything to go wrong. There are too many important things to do in this world to wait around on it to fall apart around you. Cleaning up Gotham, for instance."

"It's going to be hard to clean up Gotham as long as I'm kept under lock and key."

"Well, you're not going to be able to be under wraps much longer. The ethical review board knows about you. Gordon has been trying to plan a press conference for you to release a statement."

"And then…?"

"Well, you're not up for re-election for two and half more years. That's plenty of time—"  
"Re-election? How am I supposed to resume my duties as DA after what I've done?" he asked, horrified at her suggestion.

"Harvey, the people of Gotham don't know what you've done. Batman took the fall for you, and now he's hunted. It really is Gotham PD's policy to arrest him on sight. Gotham needs _someone _to look to, and you're that person," she answered passionately.

"I _was _that person," he corrected.

"So you would be okay to just sit back and let the mob take over our city? You're okay with corrupt cops and mob bosses who want to kill us?"

"Well, no, but if I'm the DA again, you'll be a target—"

"I rehabilitated you. I'm already a target, and that's not going to change. As long as they're on the streets, I'll be a target, as will you."

Before she had spoken the words, she knew exactly what effect they were going to have on him. He had lost too much to the mob and Gotham's war on crime already. He didn't want to lose anymore. The only way to keep that from happening, the only way to protect her and himself, was to finish it, was to stand up and face it head on. He had known this from day one, of course, but the realization felt different now. Its easy to stand up for principles when you haven't lost anyone in the fight. Now he knew what it felt like to lose someone, and he didn't want to go through that again.

"They'll come after us even harder," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

"I know. It's okay. You're a survivor."

"And you're not?" he asked, placing the lightest of kisses on her wounded shoulder.

"I never said that. People generally don't want me dead. I'll adjust."

"Are you sure you want to?"

"Absolutely." She pulled herself atop of him and kissed him long and hard. He tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her back, matching her passion with his. When he nipped lightly at her neck, she responded with a loud gasp and tightened her legs around him. As she moved against him, he buried his face in her neck, trying to muffle his groans. When they heard a knock on the door, it became obvious that they were failing.

"Are you okay in there?" Babs' voice came through the door.

"Don't!" Unfortunately, Harvey's plea came a split second too late. Luckily, Elena grabbed the sheets and pulled them up to her neck before the door opened.

"Oh! You were…right, well, I—uh, see that you're fine. Better than fine, apparently—" Babs was stammering.

"Yeah, we're just fine here," Harvey said. Doc slid off him so that he could sit up. "Do you need something?"

"I just—I heard the noise and thought there could be something wrong," she said, her cheeks bright red. Elena's were even redder as she clutched the sheet around herself, desperate to keep all of herself covered. Harvey found her embarrassment very charming. "I'll go now, but just so you know, there are men stationed in the living room, you should probably tone it down. I can't guarantee they won't come busting in, guns blazing."

Elena's blush deepened, something Harvey hadn't thought possible. "O—Okay. Thanks, Babs. 'Night," she managed. Babs nodded and quickly left the room. As soon as she was gone, Harvey burst into fits of hysterical laughter. For a moment, Elena just stared at him like he had grown another head, but after a few seconds, she joined in the laughter. They were both grown adults, and they had acted like two teenagers who had gotten caught by their parents.

When they were finally able to stop laughing, they lay there in silence for a long moment, content just to be in each other's arms. He loved the way she felt against him. They just fit together so well…it was just too perfect for words. Yes, he had his notions of right and wrong—which were firmly in place, thanks to Doc—and she was a practical person. He was a romantic guy, and she was perfectly pragmatic. She would—and did—keep him grounded.

Elena rested her head on his scarred shoulder and sighed in contentment. "You know, I really was thinking about getting back into criminal psychology."

"You know that the Gotham PD would be glad to have you. And, of course, the DA's office. And there's always work to be done at Arkham."

"I know. Right now I'm completely understanding why I got into it, but I also remember how hard the burn out was. And I have patients now that depend on me, and I don't want to betray them, especially since they said such nice things about me to the review board."

"Maybe they could just call you in to do some profiling or something," Harvey suggested. That was what he had wanted when he had called her so many times from his office.

"Yeah. I'll just have to see what happens. I don't know what I'm going to do right now. Right now, we need to talk to Gordon about your press conference," she said, nuzzling his neck. He pulled moved over her.

"Actually, I'm thinking that right the minute, there are other, better things we could be doing with our time…"

* * *

When Babs came into the room for the second time that day, Elena and Harvey were dressed. Well, Harvey was dressed, and Elena was getting that way. They looked like any normal couple who might be getting ready for a day of errands on a Saturday morning. They just looked incredibly settled, each knowing what the other was reaching for without having to ask for it. Yes, they might as well have been together for years.

"My uncle is coming to talk about a press conference," Babs said. "How are you feeling about that?"

"I'm ready to be able to walk out in streets of Gotham again," Harvey answered.

"You know that the minute you're revealed to the people of Gotham, you're going to be even more of a target than you are now."

"Yeah. But that's the price to pay. I can't just sit back and do nothing." Babs smiled and nodded.

"You know we're all behind you. We want this city cleaned up as much as you do, sir."

"Don't start with that "sir" nonsense now."

"Right. Well, just know that you've got our support," Babs said. "And I do believe that I hear my uncle in the driveway." She walked away to meet him at the door. Elena quickly pulled her hair up into a ponytail and headed into the kitchen to talk with Gordon. Harvey followed shortly behind.

Gordon looked every inch the police commissioner as he sat at her kitchen table. Babs, being the lovely and intuitive woman that she was, had put on some coffee. Gordon had already helped himself to a cup, and the two lovers followed suit, before sitting down at the table.

"We need to hold a press conference. For one, the public is getting antsy as hell to know where you are, and two, there is a chance that someone saw you when you went out to Dr. Connelly's hearing. We need to let everyone know what's going on before someone raises suspicions and thinks that this whole situation is a conspiracy," Gordon said, not bothering with pleasantries this morning.

"Okay. When do you recommend doing this?" Harvey asked. He couldn't disagree with a single thing that Gordon had said. It was good logic. By now, most people would be expecting TV cameras in his hospital room and a documentary on his recovery.

"I say we do it as soon as possible," Gordon answered.

"Wait until Monday," Elena said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"She's right. If you hold a press conference on a Sunday afternoon, which is the earliest you would be able to get it organized, it is going to look suspicious. Most people don't hold press conferences on Sunday afternoons unless it's an emergency," Babs piped up.

"Makes sense," Harvey agreed. His time as district attorney taught him plenty about press conferences. "I tell them exactly what I told the shrink panel?"

"Yes…just…the average person isn't a psychiatrist, so make it more understandable for them. Most people don't know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is."

"What about me? Do I need to say anything?" Elena asked, worry creeping into her voice.

"Probably not at the press conference, but you can bet your savings that you're going to be getting a ton of calls the minute your name comes up," Gordon said, trying to prepare her for the media storm that was sure to hit her. "Mostly, people are going to want to hear from me, you—Harvey—and the mayor. He has already be briefed on the situation, and will mostly be doing the introduction and that sort of thing. The minute that you take the stage, Harvey, they're going to want to ask you anything and everything, so be ready. Think of every question that you would have for yourself and find an answer. Rehearse it with Elena, but don't sound too rehearsed—"

"I got it. It's like old times, going over my notes for trial," Harvey commented. "The big question is, what about security? I'd really prefer to not get shot, if that's alright."

"You're going to be wearing a bulletproof vest. Babs is going to handle your transportation down a prearranged route in an unmarked car. She'll probably stand on stage, but off to the side, just in case. Of course, there are going to be the typical security precautions that we always take with a situation like this. Everyone entering, from reporters to janitors, will be searched. We're not going to do this in a room with lots of windows, which means we won't have to worry about snipers. The area will be gone over with bomb-sniffing dogs prior to our arrival."

Elena couldn't help but be impressed by Gordon's organization. The man had practically thought of anything and everything that could go wrong. Hopefully, with the Joker being in Arkham, they wouldn't have to worry about any of it. Of course, the Joker wasn't the only person out there who was willing to kill for money, but he was the only one that wasn't completely mundane about it. Normal killers—if there was such a beast—weren't going to tear up an entire city just to get to one man.

"When you resume your duties as DA, we're going to have a small crew following you. That's become customary for all of us: me, the mayor, some of the judges. Security has gotten considerably tighter since you last set foot in the DA's office. They'll be with you even when you're not working. This means that they'll follow you home. They will know the intimacies of you daily life." Elena blushed at his choice of words. "Is that something you're okay with?"

"It's not just my life at stake," Harvey said, taking Doc's hand. "I'll have to be okay with it."

"Is that something you're okay with, Dr. Connelly?"

"I really enjoy living, so yes, it's very okay with me."

"Good. Now, I have some calls to make, and then I can get you a list of everyone that's going to be there." Gordon pulled out his phone and began to do just as he said. The three others rose and headed into the living room so that Gordon could have some privacy.

"Why do you need to know who's going to be there?" Doc asked.

"Certain reports have a tendency to ask certain questions. There are reporters who are always going to want to know about my personal life. Others will always want to know what kind of effect this will have on Batman. Others will just ask straight up questions, and others are conspiracy theorists who are going to ask nit-picky questions. It helps to know who's coming so that you can prepare for their questions."

"Oh. I see."

"Now, I'm thinking that we should start by brainstorming some questions," Babs started.

"Well, if anyone saw me going into Doc's office, they'll wan to know about that situation."

"They'll want to know about your treatment in general," Elena said. "And they're going to ask about Rachel."

"I know. I'm ready…You're going to be there, right?" he asked, studying her face.

"Always…as long as you want me," she answered.

"Good…That'll be always."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed. Please review, because that is what super awesome people do.


	11. One Hell of a Speech

**Author's Note:** So, a huge thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited/alerted/etc. I also owe you a huge apology for the delay. Apparently MRSA is actually time consuming. Anyway, I hope this chapter is worth the wait.  


* * *

The Monday morning of the press conference dawned bright and early. In the house, everything moved like a well-oiled machine. The security detail changed shifts perfectly on time, though not without double-checking behind themselves. Babs rose earlier than her charges, taking extra time to dress. Normally, it wasn't important because she stayed around the house; it was usually okay to dress for utility over looks. Today, it was not. Today, she had to look like she belonged at this press conference. She couldn't wear her typical work shoes and jeans. She stared into the closet of the guest room, trying to find a happy medium. She finally settled on a black suit with a white button down and practical flats. When she sat amongst the journalists, no one would be the wiser.

Harvey and Elena both rolled out of the bed—not without some reluctance—and went to work getting ready. She carefully pulled her brown tweed pants and vest; since getting her verdict back from the review board, she had dubbed it her lucky outfit. Considering the risk that they were running today, she thought that maybe they would need all the luck they could get. As she turned around, she saw Harvey holding her black skirt suit.

"You should wear the black or the grey with white," he said, pushing the dress in her direction.

"Why? I like the brown."

"And the brown looks amazing. But almost everyone is going to be wearing black or grey, and for once, we want you to blend in. If there's trouble, we don't want you to stand out. Brown and green in a sea of black and grey is going to stand out."

"You're anticipating trouble?" she asked.

"This is Gotham. Do I really have to answer that?" he answered, only half joking.

"I'll take that as a yes. Any particular reason?"

"It's Gotham. There are a good many people who want me dead, and after this, they're all going to want you dead, too. And that's before anyone knows that we're…" He trailed off, looking for the right word to use.

"Sleeping together?" she suggested.

"Not the term I would have used. I would say that we're…a couple."

"Well, they aren't going to find that out today. Or anytime in the near future. I hardly think that the people of Gotham would particularly care for me if they knew."

"Why not?" Harvey asked, surprised at her words.

"It's been…They might feel that we haven't waited long enough to start…seeing each other. They might think that I'm trying to replace Rachel, and that isn't going to go over well. Rachel gave them hope as well, and if they think that I'm trying to replace her…they're going to hate me. So I think we should keep things under wraps for a while."

"They wouldn't hate you. They'll love you," Harvey said as she took the black suit from his hands.

"They don't know me like you do—"

"I certainly hope not, considering that I _know _you…in the Biblical sense."

"I'm serious, Harvey. They aren't going to like it if—"

"I think the people of Gotham are smarter than you give them credit for. When I explain what you've done for me, they'll love you."

"I hope so. But just in case, I've already talked with Babs about us taking separate cars and separate routes. It'll be safer for us that way," she explained, pulling on the black suit that he had wanted her wear.

"Right. No two for the price of one specials," he said grimly.

"Yeah, something like that." With a kiss on the cheek, she headed into the kitchen, leaving Harvey alone in the bathroom. He stood there for several moments, studying his face in the mirror. Doc had assured him that people cared more about his words than the mouth that they were coming out of, but he was still unsure. He hoped that people would understand that even though his face was monstrous, he was a good man. He knew that his smile—the one that used to be charming—would now be scary. Parents would cover their children's eyes when he came on the TV screen. But there was still hope of swaying them with his silver tongue.

Splashing some water on his face, he washed the sleep from his eyes. He took a deep breath, tightened his tie, and headed into the kitchen. Babs and Elena were sitting at the table, pouring of maps of the city. Two routes were marked in red, two in yellow, three in orange and two more in blue.

"What's this?" Harvey asked.

"Your routes," Babs answered. "The two blue ones are the ones that you and Elena will be taking. They also happen to be the longest and most convoluted. This is going to keep you from—"

"Being followed," he finished for her. "What are the others?"

"Red is the fastest. It is the most direct to the location and the most direct to get out of town. Orange is the second fastest, yellow the third. Yellow also happens to run through the least reputable side of town, so we're trying to avoid that route. We're actually hoping to not use any route but the blue ones," Babs explained.

"Right. Well, let's hope we don't have to use alternate routes. I like the idea of things going according to plan," Elena said hopefully.

"It is Gotham," Babs reminded her. Elena sighed in frustration and finished eating her breakfast in silence. She also finished eating breakfast one-handed because she wasn't about to let go of Harvey's. She wasn't letting go, not after having everyone remind her that it was highly unlikely that everything was going to go according to plan.

Harvey squeezed her hand comfortingly, but never tried to pull away.

Babs and Harvey ran over possible questions for the rest of the morning, right up until it was time to leave. Elena sat in silence, listening to Harvey's answers, letting herself be swept away by his voice. She almost found herself believing their story as he repeated it for at least the forty-second time to Babs. Yes, they would have no problem with the good citizens of Gotham.

When it was finally time to leave, everyone else went ahead of them, leaving them alone for a few moments. Harvey pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. She breathed in the smell of him, and studied his face, as if trying to memorize everything about him. They stood still for several long minutes, before he kissed her gently and tried to pull away. She didn't let go, but instead pulled him closer and kissed him fiercely.

"That's so you'll remember what you're going to come home to," she whispered.

"How could I forget?" he answered. With one final kiss, he pulled her through the front door and walked her to her car. "I love you."

"I love you, too…I'll see you when we get there."

"Damn right you will," he said with a smile as he shut the door behind her. He climbed into his car with Babs and watched as Doc's car pulled out of the driveway and drove off in the opposite direction.

As Babs drove, the city scenery flew by. The tall, reflective glass buildings, the shorter brick buildings, the people walking on the sidewalks. It was all flying past him, he felt a sense of pride. Yes, Gotham needed to be cleaned up, but really, it was a beautiful city. It was his city, and he was going to fight for it once more. And he was going to do it with help from the people of Gotham.

"Nervous?" Babs asked from the front seat.

"I'd be stupid not to be."

"Worried about Elena?"

"Again, especially after what happened…I'd be stupid not to be."

"If it's any comfort, I ran over all the staff files myself when choosing who would handle your transportation. Then my uncle looked over them, too. We've got good people doing this."

"Thanks, Babs. I know I'm about to open a whole new can of worms. Where did that expression even come from? A can of worms?"

"It's a fishing metaphor. Apparently worms come in cans," she answered. Babs, being a city girl herself, had never opened a literal can of worms in her entire life.

"Oh. Right…" In his head, Harvey tried to visualize everything going the way that it should, like a well-oiled machine. The reporters sitting in their seats asking all the right questions and completely forgetting to pry about Doc. No one getting arrested or murdered or dead in any way, shape or form. If anyone could force the press conference to go smoothly by sheer force of will alone, it was Harvey.

"We're here." Babs' words pulled him from his thoughts.

"Do you seen Doc?"

"Not yet. Her route was a bit longer than yours, just to guarantee that you didn't arrive at the same time. I'll be on the lookout. She'll be fine, Harvey. Now, you go out there and kick ass," she said, practically pushing him from the car.

It was set up similarly to the last one. A carpeted stage was set up, a podium front and center. There were at least a hundred chairs in front of the stage, all of them filled with reporters. Camera men were kneeling in front of the stage. Bright, hot lights were blazing. He knew that there were several undercover cops sitting out amongst the reporters, but he couldn't see them. They blended in too well. There were also several uniformed officers off to the sides.

He could faintly hear the mayor introducing him, but he was too distracted looking for Doc. It wasn't until a police man started to tap him on the shoulder that he realized it was time for him to move. With a deep breath, he walked onto the stage to face the press.

The reaction to his face was immediate and strong, just as he had suspected that it would be. He could see the revulsion and pity in the faces of the women, and sick curiosity in the faces of the men. All of them, he could tell, were fighting the urge to flinch, and several of them were unable to keep that urge in check. It's lucky there were not children in the audience, he thought.

"Good morning," he said, speaking into the microphone. "It's good to see all of you this morning. I know that all of you have questions, and I will do my best to answer them as well as I possibly can. I also realize that you all have deadlines to meet, so I'll try to keep this as short and sweet as possible."

"You are citizens of Gotham. You are strong people who have seen too much violence in this city, and I vowed to clean it up. As a result of my efforts, and those of an individual we call Batman, the mob hired the Joker. I know that all of you are aware of the chaos he caused several months ago. During that very chaotic time, I was in an explosion, which left me very disfigured, as you can see. It was one of a series of explosions that also killed Rachel Dawes.

"When I woke up in Gotham General, I was a completely different man. Rachel was all I had in this world, and she was gone. Because of that, I hated the world, and I hated myself. Most of all, I hated all of you. I hated that all of you were not experiencing the pain that I was at that time. I hated that you were happy and that I had nothing."

There was shocked silence throughout the room. There was no longer pity in the faces of the journalists in the audience, but instead there was an uneasiness. They didn't like where this was going. As far as re-election was concerned, his current outlook was bleak. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Our Mayor and Commissioner Gordon noticed, and they wouldn't stand for it. They weren't going to let me lay around and feel sorry myself and hate the world. Instead, they got me help. They picked me up and took me to Dr. Elena Connelly, who is one of hell of a woman, and one of the top psychiatrists in Gotham City. She opened my eyes to the world again. She made me realize that you never get over the death of a loved one, but that I would learn to live with it.

"I didn't believe her at first. At first, I hated her for making think of things that I wanted to push to the farthest corners of my mind. But she's pretty tenacious, and after awhile, I began to realize that she was right. We all have troubles and pains to deal with, and more often than not, we're too busy trying to hold our own lives together to pay attention to anyone else's. Now I realize that is our very problem."

Several people tried to interrupt him, but he quickly silenced them with a raised hand. "Yes, there are people out there that want to hurt this city and the people in it. But they would be a lot less successful with that goal if we would take the time to care about our neighbors. How many of us haven't helped someone because we were afraid of the consequences? But if we looked out for one another, we wouldn't have to be looking over our shoulders all the time, because we would know that someone else was doing it for us."

The faces in the audience no longer filled with horror or pity, but rather hope. They believed every word that was coming out of his mouth, and he could see that they believed _in him. _

"I intend—starting now—to bring that feeling back to Gotham. We can't let those that would keep us down intimidate us. I'm telling you that we have to start doing the right thing, and it's starting with me. I'm going to stand by my promise to clean up this city, and I'm going to trust you, as concerned citizens of Gotham, to help me."

District Attorney Harvey Dent stared out into the sea of faces while they just stared at him in silence. For several minutes, he just stood there, waiting for the reporters to start questioning him. Instead, he heard the faint sound of a single person clapping. A lone reporter was standing in the audience, clapping. Slowly, one by one, they all stood and joined her in applause, pride on their faces. However, as he scanned the crowd, one face was missing.

"That was one hell of a speech," Gordon whispered to him as he guided him offstage.

"They're going to have questions—"

"We'll have another press conference for that later. Right now, they're too in awe of their DA to think of any. Keep that up and you're going to get yourself re-elected."

"Did Doc make it here? I can't see her," Harvey asked, searching the audience.

"I haven't heard. Babs will know."

"I need to talk to her. I can't see her."

"Okay." Gordon spoke into a radio and got a quick, terse response. His face paled upon hearing the answer, sending a cold shot of fear down his spine. A terse answer like that was never a good sign, especially in the city of Gotham. "Babs is waiting in the car. We need to get there quickly."

"What's wrong?" When he didn't get an answer, he asked again. "What's wrong? Is it Doc?" Still, there was silence. Harvey grabbed Gordon's arm roughly and began shaking him. "It's Doc, isn't it? Please, tell me."

They arrived at the unmarked car and found Babs sitting in the front driver's seat, completely dazed. Gordon helped Harvey into the backseat of the car and pulled the door shut before sitting in the front passenger seat, pale and tense.

"Please, tell me it's not Doc. What is it?"

By way of answer, Babs handed him what it was that she'd been holding. In his hand, he found a distance picture of Doc from that morning. When he studied the card clipped to it, he found a joker's smiling face staring back at him.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, there it is. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review...mostly because it makes me smile a whole, whole lot. And reviews are awesome...kinda like my readers. =)


	12. Determination

**Author's Note: **Huge thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/alerted/favorited. That makes my day. Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.  


* * *

Harvey stared at the card for a long time, completely numb. The Joker had Elena. It didn't make any sense. The Joker was in Arkham. Doc was gone. How had he escaped? Did he have help? Doc was gone. He had to have had help. Arkham was locked down tight. Doc was gone. After several minutes he asked, "How?"

"Her car was ambushed a block from her place. I haven't had a chance to look at the scene. All I know right now is that her whole security detail was killed, and she's gone. Whoever it was—presumably the Joker—left this pinned to the chest of one of our dead cops," Babs said grimly.

"I want to see," Harvey replied immediately.

"We've got our crime scene guys all over it. You're not an expert, Harvey. You need to let them handle it," Gordon said, trying to calm him.

"No. I want to see it. I want everything spelled out for me. I want to be actively involved in this investigation. Babs, it's Doc—"

"I know that! She isn't just your lover. She's my friend, too." She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. "If he kidnapped her, it means that—"

"He hasn't k-killed her yet. I can't lose her. I need to see everyth—" He stopped talking and drew a deep breath. He had to stay calm. He wanted her back in one piece. He wanted to hold her in his arms again, and he couldn't do that if he panicked. Panicking wasn't going to get her back, and it sure as hell wasn't going to save her life.

"Gordon. Your unit at Major Crimes. Get them back together. I want them working Doc's case. Keep me updated. I want to know everything. I want you to explain every single piece of evidence to me," he said, his voice stone cold.

"We'll be in cooperation with your office," Gordon answered. "Now, I'm needed at the crime scene. If you can stay calm, Harvey, you can come with us. Just don't—"

"Touch anything. I know. Let's go."

The ride back to the crime scene was long. Too long. It gave him entirely too much time to think about the fact that she was being held by the Joker. It was a nightmare coming back to haunt him. It could be Rachel all over again. No, he wasn't going to let her die. He couldn't let that happen.

All the memories that they shared came flashing through his mind. The determined look in her eyes during a therapy session. The tears in her eyes when she told him she couldn't keep treating him. Her strength when she gritted her teeth through the pain of her gunshot wound. The way she kissed him. The way she looked when she told him she loved him. The way she looked when she slept. He wasn't about to let her go.

When they arrived at the crime scene, the four cars that had exploded were still burning. It had been two at each end of the block, trapping Elena's car in the middle of the street. Firefighters were trying to put out the blaze, but it was too hot for them to get close. The car that Elena had ridden in was in the middle of the street, riddled with bullet holes. All four tires were flat, and the police officers that were supposed to be guarding her were propped up dead against the car. Gordon immediately went to talk to some of the others on the scene. Within minutes of talking to them, he was on the phone with the people at Arkham Asylum.

"He must have blocked them in with the cars, and then closed in on them, taken Elena, and killed everyone else," Babs explained after assessing the scene. Harvey peered into the window of the car, and saw a large still-red stain on seat where Elena had been sitting. He felt sick.

"She was hurt. There's blood…That's a lot of blood," he whispered.

"I hate to say it, but he could have taken her body just to give us hope, so that he could take that hope away."

"No. She's alive. I would know if she were dead. Besides, he loves chaos. If he wanted to kill her, he could find some creative way to do so. He'd draw it out," Harvey thought aloud. "He'll make contact with us at some point. Do we know how he escaped?"

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel, one of the psychiatrists at Arkham who was handling his case, let him free in earlier this morning. She was supposed to be investigated by the Ethical Review Board for being too close to him as a patient. They must have been planning this," Gordon said as he hung up the phone. "The question is, how did they know?"

"Dr. Quinzel was a psychiatrist. The review board no doubt interviewed some of Elena's contemporaries, and I'm betting she was one of them. She probably mentioned it to the Joker, who put the pieces together. Then it was just a matter of looking Doc up in the yellow pages and plotting out possible routes. They might not have been sure where we were going, so the ambush point was close to her house," Harvey answered, his mind going a mile a minute. "But if he wanted to rain hell on Gotham, why not take me?"

"He saw how you reacted last time. He's trying to push you to the same thing. He wants you to do some of the raining down hell," Babs answered. "Last time, killing Rachel worked, so now he's repeating the process with Elena."

"Last time, there was a choice between me and Rachel. What kind of choice are we going to get this time?" He was in a daze, all the terrible possibilities filling his mind. He loved her. Could he sacrifice her on the altar of a cleaner Gotham? He pushed the idea from his mind, determined that it wasn't going to come to that.

"He'll have to make contact at some point in time. Until then, Babs, you take a team and search Quinzel's place. I'll oversee things here and then head to Arkham to talk to the people there," Gordon ordered. "My money says he tries to make contact with you, Harvey. Let us know when he does. I'll have one of my men take you home."

"No. I'll stay with Babs—"

"Listen, we need to make sure that you're safe. Gotham has just gotten their white knight back, and we can't afford for you to be taken away from them again. You have to look after yourself right now, which means letting us do our jobs. You can stay with Babs until she's done here, and then you're going home."

"To wait?" he asked angrily.

"Yes. To wait. As soon as you hear something, we'll have something more to go on. The more pieces of the puzzle we have, the better off we are."

"Right. I know this. Okay." Harvey's mind was in so many places, it was hard to concentrate. He was trying not to think of all the things the Joker could be doing to her, trying not to think of the blood stain in the car. He was trying to think about everything he knew about the Joker case, trying to put the pieces together. He was trying not to keep his hands from shaking.

"We'll need a warrant to search Quinzel's place—"Babs started.

"I'll get it. Cell phone, please," Harvey cut her off. She handed him her cell phone and within ten minutes he had a warrant to search Harleen Quinzel's apartment, as well as her office. He hung up feeling a bit more in control, a bit more like the man he used to be. Except that he knew he wasn't that man anymore. He was a little more careful, a little more of a realist, a little bit stronger.

"Your warrant's waiting," he said, handing Babs her cell phone back. She nodded tersely before climbing into her car. Before the door closed, she was already on the phone with other members of her unit, updating them and giving them directions.

Gordon was talking with members of the forensics team, trying to piece things together. They wouldn't know too much about the explosives on the cars until the fire department managed to get the fires out, which was looking like a daunting task. Blood samples were being taken and shipped back to a lab for DNA testing. Fibers were being pulled out of the car. Elena's cell phone was pulled from the floor boards of the car.

"That's Doc's phone," Harvey told Gordon. "And her gun. Mal."

Sure enough, the small Berretta was in the floor next to her phone. Harvey was willing to be his life savings that it was empty. Doc would have fought like hell, which also lead to his belief that some of the blood in the car had to belong to the person who kidnapped her. He couldn't smother a small smile at the thought of her fighting back, but it was immediately wiped from his face when he saw the blood on the butt of the gun.

"Mal?" Gordon asked.

"Yeah. She named it. I'm betting it's empty."

"I sure as hell hope you're right. They'll go through her phone and look over the gun at the crime lab."

"I want to know as soon as you know anything."

"I'll be in touch. Now go home," Gordon said, not unaffectionately.

The ride from the crime scene to his apartment was shorter than he expected, maybe because he was in deep thought most of the time. There were just too many puzzle pieces, and he was still missing some. He wanted everything to fit together nicely, but it just didn't. There were too many questions unanswered. But the biggest one was still about Elena. Where the hell was she, and was she alright?

Upon arriving home, he received another piece of the puzzle. A small laptop was sitting in front of his door, a set of instructions attached. Before he could say a word, his escort was already on the phone with Gordon.

* * *

At seven o'clock sharp, he was sitting in front of the laptop, waiting for whoever was going to be on the other end of his video chat. Gordon, Babs and several other officers waited out of sight of the computer. The computer had come with one contact programmed in, and instructions on when and how he was to conduct this video chat session. He followed the instructions to the t, not willing to risk Elena's life on a stupid computer problem.

At 7:03 PM, the Joker's permanently smiling face appeared on the screen. It was all Harvey could do not to cringe at the sight. The irony of that fact was not lost on him, but he couldn't laugh. Not right now. Not when this maniac had Doc.

"Hello, Harvey," the Joker said, his voice playful. "I see you got my package."

"You're lucky the bomb squad didn't destroy it," he answered, his voice terse.

"I am lucky. I've gotten to spend some quality time with Dr. Connelly. She really is the best at what she does, I must say. Better than my Harley, but don't tell her I said that. She'll get jealous." His voice was far too gleeful for what he was doing. He was about the threaten Doc, and he sounded as happy as a lark. Harvey wasn't entirely sure what he had meant by "quality time," but he didn't like the sound of it.

"Where's Doc?" Harvey demanded.

"Patience, Harvey. Patience. The best things in life are worth waiting for, you know. She's here with me, and if you're a good boy and play by the rules, I'll let you talk to her."

"What do you want?"

"The same thing I wanted when we spoke in the hospital. I just want to sit back and enjoy the chaos. But Elena put a damper on my fun. She rained on my parade, and now it seems that I have to do all the work. But then, my wife used to say "If you want something done right, do it yourself." That was before her accident…Do you want to know how I got these scars?"

"Not really. Can't say that I care that much," Harvey answered, his voice cold.

The Joker laughed in delight, and clapped his hands. "You know, you and Elena both are the only people who have said that to me. There's no pretense. You're honest, and that's something I really like about you, Harvey. So, imagine how upset I was when I saw your little press conference. That's not the truth. And the people of Gotham deserve the truth."

Cold dread grew up in the pit of his stomach as he recognized the direction that this conversation was going to take. Everything that they had worked for was going to be jeopardized, and the decision was going to be solely his.

"I can't do that," Harvey whispered, horrified.

"I think that's what Elena would say too. It's shame that she isn't more talkative. But then, maybe she's just shy around strangers. And I am definitely a _stranger. _ She won't say a word to me. It's a shame, because I really think we could have a great conversation. She could tell me why I thought that slicing my face would make my mother's crying stop—"

"Where is she?" he snapped, losing patience. He was trying desperately not to vomit.

"She's here, with me. And if you tell everyone the truth, you can have her back in one piece, just like you asked. But if not…well, we'll just have to see. I can think of a few games to play with her. She's smart, and she's got a lot of fight in her, so it could be a lot of fun."

"How do I know she's alive? There was blood in her car."

"Harvey, Harvey, you're not listening. I told you that you could talk to her in a minute. She got a little feisty with me, and just wouldn't do what I asked. I have to say, she's very attached to that gun of hers. But she's fine, I promise."

"And if I do this?" He could hear muffled sounds in the background as he said that. Doc?

"You'll get her back after the press conference. Of maybe I'll give her back before hand…we'll just have to see how generous I'm feeling. I have to tell you, she doesn't look very happy about this conversation."

"I want to see her now."

"Regrettably, you do have a rather one-track mind, Harvey. But, since you're considering my generous offer, you can see her now." There was a blurring of the image as the Joker spun the computer towards Elena. She sat in the corner of what appeared to be a warehouse, her hands and feet bound. Her face was bloody and bruised.

"Doc? Are you okay?" he asked, not sure what else to say.

"Fine. It's just cuts and bruises. But you can't really be considering his offer," she said vehemently.

"He's going to kill you."

"Listen…I like living. I like it a lot. But think of what's going to happen if you do this. I'll be free, but you'll be in prison for murder, and everyone that you worked so hard to get, is going to go free. That's more criminals back on the street—"

"I don't care!"

"Yes, Harvey, you do. You care a lot. You're in this situation because you care. But if you do this, you're going to regret it. You'll be in prison, or dead, and it's like nothing changed. You have to be cold and logical about this."

"I love you," he whispered. She smiled at that, but he could tell it pained her. Her smile looked more like a grimace.

"I love you, too. You just have to think of fonder times. Do you remember what you told me once about my glasses?"

Of course, he did. He knew exactly what he had thought and what he had told her about those glasses that made her look like a naughty librarian.

"Yes. I told you they made you—"

"You just have to keep thinking of those memories. Did you ever finish _Angela's Ashes_? I thought you would like that one. Did you?"

"I never finished it."

"You should. It's good…" She couldn't finish her sentence. Her voice was trembling, but she still didn't look quite like some of the other kidnap victims Harvey had seen. She still looked determined, strong. For someone who was essentially giving herself a death sentence, she didn't look like she was resigning herself to death. Her will to live was too strong to give up.

"Doc…"

"I'm not going to tell you that everything is okay, Harvey, because it isn't. But you know what you have to do. Revisit the places we spent time, but you know how this has to end," she said, her determination strong. Determination…

"Elena…you are not playing like I thought you would." The Joker's voice interrupted their moment. "For someone who has so much fight in them, you give up too easily. You're going to make me set an example, and that's not what I wanted to do."

"What are you doing?" Harvey shouted, gripping the edge of the computer, desperate to do something, but unable.

"I'm just going to have to give you a little…push, Harvey, because Dr. Connelly isn't going to do that. It's a shame, she's got such a pretty face. What do you think of my scars, Doc?" he asked her, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him. She clenched her jaw and didn't say anything.

"Doc, answer him!" Panic tore through Harvey. Feelings of helplessness threatened to overwhelm him. He could do nothing but sit and watch.

"I think your disgusting face is nothing compared to what goes on in your head," she spat. The Joker laughed and kissed her forehead. She physically recoiled from his touch. Well, she tried anyway. It's hard to do anything effectively when bound hand and foot. He pulled a knife from his pocket and pressed it against her cheek.

"There's my girl," the Joker said gleefully.

"I'm hardly yours."

"No, but these scars are going to mark you forever."

"Then I'll wear them with pride, because they'll mark me as a survivor," she said defiantly.

"You'll only survive if Harvey does as I asked. If not…well, we'll see. But he's a polite guy, so I think he'll do it. But just in case…" He forced her mouth open and slid the blade inside. She stilled and tried to relax, knowing that if she tensed up, it was going to hurt even more. Without warning, he pulled the knife towards her ear, cutting through her flesh. Blood immediately began pouring from the wound, covering the Joker and Elena. She brought her bound hands to her face, trying to stop the bleeding, but it did no good

The Joker lowered her gently to the floor and began to dance joyfully in the blood that was pooling on the floor. Dipping his fingers in it, he began to write on the walls. He crudely wrote "Ha-Ha" all over the wall, leaving Elena to bleed on the floor. He didn't notice Elena's bloody hands working as quickly as they could scribbling on the floor.

Harvey noticed though. He couldn't tell what she was writing, but they were recording the entire conversation. He could play it back. What mattered was that she was thinking. She was trying to tell him something. She wasn't giving up.

"You son of a bitch!" Harvey yelled. "You told me once that you were like a dog chasing cars. Well, you're like going to die like one. I'm going to hunt you down and kill you like the dog you are." He couldn't let the Joker look down and see Elena writing on the floor. He had to keep him distracted.

"It'll be fun, then!" the Joker responded with a smile.

Elena was growing weaker, her message looking more like chicken scratch. Harvey managed to make out "as the patron of hopeless cases" and "St. Jude" before Elena passed out on the floor, covering the message.

"Oh! It's looks like our girl decided to take a nap. Don't worry. If you're a good boy, you'll get her back in one piece. If not, well…I'm sure this would be very entertaining for the viewing public…" The Joker trailed off, laughing hysterically. He grabbed Elena and picked her up, smearing her bloody message on the floor. "Ta-ta!"

The screen went black. Immediately, Harvey severed the connection and turned to face Gordon.

"She was telling me something. Her glasses, the book, the message on the floor…it all means something."

"And that is?" Gordon asked.

"I don't know." But he sure as hell intended to find out.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, there you have it. The next chapter. I hope you enjoyed, and please review. Good, bad, constructive...just let me know. =)


	13. Hopeless Cases

**A/N: **I'm so, so, so sorry about the slow progress. You all have been wonderful with the support, and I'm sorry you had to wait. I had this chapter done, and then my computer crashed, so my life was kinda chaotic there for awhile. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Please review, and thanks for the support.

* * *

"They're clues. She was leaving me clues. The glasses, the book, the message on the floor. I need to see that message on the floor. Can you get a technical analyst on this?" Harvey asked, already in action. He didn't have a lot of time, which meant that Doc had even less. He didn't want to have to make the decision that the Joker had posed to him, and that meant that he had to work fast.

"Yeah. Move over," Gordon said, ushering in a young man in thick horn-rimmed glasses. He sat in front of the computer and began typing away furiously.

"Okay, the walls in the background appear to be brick, and fairly ancient. I can see wooden rafters in the ceiling towards the end of the video." Harvey was thinking aloud and expecting everyone else to keep up with him. If he thought aloud, they could follow his thought process and wouldn't be questioning him every step of the way. "Are there any older brick buildings in Gotham? Can someone get me a list? If we can find the building, we won't have to decipher the clues."

"Give me three seconds," Gordon answered, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. Moments later, he was speaking into it in a low voice. He snapped the phone shut and looked at Harvey, his face grim. "A lot of the Narrows used to be historical. There are still some older buildings there that haven't been torn down. I have a techie setting up shop down town, ready to handle all our needs. Do you have anything off that computer yet?"

The bespectacled man sitting in front of the computer jumped at the sudden demand, and Gordon realized that his voice was sharper than he had intended for it to be. Everything had been so well planned. They thought that they had covered all their bases. But no, they hadn't. They had screwed up and now everything that he, Elena, Harvey, and the people of Gotham had been fighting for was in jeopardy. Yeah, he had a right to be on edge.

"I've managed to get a screen cap of the moment when we can see the most of whatever it is that she's writing. There are chunks of it that have been smeared, so I can't tell what it is, but what isn't smeared is legible," he said, turning the computer towards Harvey and Gordon. Babs pushed through the two men and looked on.

_…the patron of hopeless cases--of things despaired of. Pray for me who am so miserable; make use, I implore thee, of that particular privilege accorded thee of bringing… help where help is almost despaired of. Come to my assistance in…tribulations and sufferings… and that I may bless God with thee and all the elect throughout eternity. I promise thee…to be ever mindful of this great favor, and I will never cease to honor thee…_

"Do you know what it is?" Gordon asked, looking over at Harvey. He shook his head, completely blanking out.

"I can find out. Number for the tech—" Harvey started, only to have Babs cut him off.

"It's a prayer. I don't really remember all of my Sunday school lessons, but I know what a prayer looks like. Look at this bit, "the patron of hopeless cases." That combined with the bit about being mindful of the favor…I'd bet my life that it's a prayer to a saint. Find out who the patron said of hopeless cases is, and you've got your answer."

"I'm on it," the techie said from the computer. His fingers flew like lightning across the keyboard.

"Google?" Harvey asked, his voice filled with outrage and disbelief. "Someone's life is riding on this, and you're using _Google_?"

"You'd be amazed at how accurate Google can be for general knowledge type stuff. And here we have it. Saint Jude, the patron saint of hopeless cases."

"Are you sure?" Babs demanded. Her expression clearly told him that if he was wrong, there was no way in hell he would live to tell about it.

"Every Catholic website has Saint Jude listed as your guy."

"Alright. We've got Saint Jude, and an old brick building…a church, maybe? A Catholic church?" Harvey said, again thinking aloud.

"An old Catholic church in the Narrows?" Babs asked skeptically.

"It might now be in the Narrows, but most of the older buildings are in that part of the city," Gordon said. He quickly dialed a number into his cell phone. "I need a list of all the Catholic Churches in Gotham. I'm putting you on speaker phone."

"There are over twenty Catholic churches inside Gotham City limits. There are another ten outside the city limits," said the voice coming from the phone. The analyst's voice was trembling. Clearly, this was not the kind of work he was used to doing, and not under this kind of pressure.

"You didn't google it, did you?" Babs mumbled derisively.

"What? No…it's all in City Hall records," the analyst told them through the phone.

"We need older churches. Brick buildings with wood beams. It might be a historical site, but not one that's open to the public. It has to be closed or someone would have heard her…someone would have found them. Narrow it down to older churches," Harvey demanded.

"There are five in the Narrows, three of which are closed. One was condemned as being structurally unsound, the other two built new buildings elsewhere and left the old place to rot. Also structurally unsound, according to the city's civil engineers," the techie informed them. His voice was barely understandable it was trembling so much.

"What are the names?" Babs asked. "Are there any Saint Judes on the list?"

"No. We've got a Saint Mary, an Our Mother of Grace, and Trinity Cathedral."

"We have to look at the other clues," Harvey whispered.

"She said something about her glasses…what did you think of her glasses?" Babs asked, trying to make sense of the clue herself.

"I told her that they made her look more like a naughty librarian than a psychiatrist," Harvey answered.

"Okay, librarian. Could she have been telling you that she was in a library?"

"Then why would she give us the Saint Jude clue?" Gordon puzzled. "Is it possible that she's saying something about glass. That we're over thinking this?"

"No," Harvey answered surely. "She knew exactly what implications she was giving me when she said that. It has something to do with libraries."

"Alright, techie…what's your name?" Babs asked the analyst on the phone.

"Kevin," he answered hesitantly.

"Alright, Kevin. I need you to look up libraries anywhere near those three churches. Can you do that?"

"Give me just a second…"

"Okay, we've got libraries and churches…what's the bookreference about?" Gordon prompted Harvey.

"Um…It's _Angela's Ashes _by Frank McCort. It's about Ireland, dead children—"

"Cemetaries, maybe?" Babs suggested.

"No, that doesn't…no…poor people—"

"Could she be telling us it's in a poor neighborhood, like the Narrows?" Gordon said, throwing out any and all possibilities.

"I've got something!" Kevin said through the phone. "There is a library midway between Our Mother of Grace and Saint Mary's."

"Okay, so that rules out Trinity. _Angela's Ashes…_Limerick, rivers…" Harvey babbled on, trying desperately to put two and two together.

"What are some of the characters in _Angela's Ashes_? Could that be what she's getting at?" Babs suggested.

"Um…Malachy, Angela, Frank, Ollie…"

"I have an Angela's Italian restaurant on the same block as Our Mother of Grace," Kevin said triumphantly.

"That's it!" Harvey shouted, already moving towards the door. Gordon hung up the phone and quickly called his office, having them send SWAT teams to Our Mother of Grace Church in the Narrows. Babs was already out the door, cranking the car as the other two piled in and they took off. The GPS couldn't give them directions fast enough. Babs was driving like a maniac and was going to get them there in record time.

The SWAT vehicles were waiting outside the building, blue prints in hand as they pulled up. They had silence their sirens before getting anywhere close to the building for fear of giving themselves away. The last thing they wanted to do was tip off the Joker so that he could get spooked and kill Elena.

"The building's deserted. He could have her in there anywhere. There are classrooms beneath the sanctuary, and another building around back. We need a better idea of where she might be before we go barging in there, guns blazing," the SWAT captain told them.

"Clues…There's more than one building. Are they labeled?" Gordon asked.

"I've got the sanctuary, and the St. Paul center," the captain answered.

"So there's nothing about Saint Jude on those blue prints?" Babs asked. He shook his head.

"I'll go in quietly and see if I can see anything. I'll call you when I find anything—" Harvey was cut off by a chorus of protests from the people standing around him. Before they could stop him, he took off into the building.

The sanctuary used to have an intricately carved altar, but it had long since fallen into disrepair. The pews were dusty, and the door had fallen off the confessional. Beside the altar, at the front of the church, there was a door way with stairs leading downward—probably to the classrooms that the SWAT guy had mentioned. He crept down the stairs as quietly as he possibly could.

The doors were carved with pictures of the saints. Harvey recognized some from Sunday school—the Virgin Mary, Paul—but he didn't recognize them all. He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, said a prayer of thanks that he had a Blackberry, and looked up a picture of St. Jude. Yes, he was googling it. If Google saved Doc's life, he would make a significant donation to the company.

He quickly darted back up the stairs and out the front door. "Down stairs, there's a classroom door with St. Jude carved into it. That's got to be it. It's that room," he said, pointing it out on the map. "Now go get her."

The SWAT team eyed each other and quickly fell into formation and silently as possible tore through the building. They kicked in the door of the classroom, though not before doing their best to check for trip wires and such. Harvey, Gordon, and Babs followed closely behind. Upon hearing a chorus of "We found hers" through the building, they tore through the crowd to the front.

Elena was curled on her side in the corner of the classroom, her face mangled and bloody. Her eyes were open, but glassy with pain. She was trembling, and it only got worse when she saw people come spilling into the room. Something clattered from her hand as Harvey made his way over to her.

"Doc? It's okay now, we're going to take care of you now. An ambulance is on the way—"

Harvey was surprised when she interrupted him. "You should call the coroner." He followed her gaze to the opposite corner of the room, where a purple-suited man was lying in the corner, blood puddled beneath him. He checked for a pulse and found none.

"Is that him?" Babs asked. Harvey nodded.

"He was trying to rig the door, and I couldn't…let him. He slipped…in my blood and he was already on the floor so I just took his head and hit it on the floor again and again and again. I couldn't let him rig the door and it was so easy. There's so much blood now but…"

"Shh…It's okay. He's not going to hurt you or anyone else again. But we've got to get you to the hospital to get your face looked at. You're still bleeding," Harvey said, his tone comforting. He pulled her against him and he felt her relax just the slightest bit.

"He's not going to hurt anyone again," Doc repeated. Harvey kissed the top of her head and reassured her.

"No…No, he's not."


	14. Then You Will Talk

"EMTs are here," Harvey whispered in her ear. She wanted to speak again, but her wounds had reopened and were bleeding again. They were using Harvey's jacket to staunch the flow of blood from her face, though it was clear that the pressure applied to the wound was incredibly painful. She was trembling in his arms, a combination of adrenaline and blood loss. He was surprised that she hadn't passed out yet.

"Stay!" Her voice was desperate, and her hand tightened around his. His arms tightened around her comfortingly, though he was not comfortable with the blood that flowed from her wounded face. She was lucky she wasn't choking on her own blood.

"Ma'am, please don't talk. We need to get the bleeding stopped, and we can't do that if you keep moving."

She didn't move while they waited for a gurney to be brought to her. When it finally reached them, Harvey lifted her off the floor and set her gently on the gurney. She clutched tightly to his hand, terrified to let go, as if letting go meant that she was going to be taken away again. But he wasn't going to let that happen, and neither was she. She wasn't going to let anyone get the drop on her again, not when she had so much to live for. Life was too important.

"Alright, Doc. We're going to get you to the hospital, and they'll have a plastic surgeon waiting. He'll be able to fix you right up. You'll barely have a scar," he told her, his voice low and soothing. She shook her head violently, sending more blood across the ambulance. "Doc, you can't move—"

"Dr. Connelly, you have to hold still. You've lost a lot of blood, and there is the potential for nerve damage. If you don't hold still, it could get worse and cause facial paralysis," the EMT told her. She stopped moving her face, but still motioned with her hands, trying to tell them something. Finally one of the EMTs handed her a piece of paper—one of the many pieces of paper that contributed to bureaucratic red tape—and a pen. She quickly jotted something on the paper and held it up.

_No plastic surgeon_

"No plastic surgeon? Doc, what are you doing?" he asked, though he knew perfectly well. She was trying to make a point to him. He still sometimes saw a monster when he looked in the mirror, and she was trying to prove him wrong. And, of course, she wasn't entirely wrong. No matter what her face looked like, he it wouldn't make him love her any less. But she didn't need to do this to prove a point.

_Scars do not a monster make_

"I know. And I will never love you any less. But you're going to have to live with that scar for the rest of your life."

_I wasn't lying when I said I'd wear them with pride_

"Doc stop trying to prove a point to me," he begged, though he knew it was futile. Once Doc had made up her mind, it was made up, and there was nothing he could do about it. He kissed her forehead, not caring about the blood. "I love you."

_Love you, too. Still no plastic surgeon. _

He grinned and watched her drop everything in her hands and close her eyes. She was still tightly holding on to his hand, so he knew that she was still conscious. When they arrived at the hospital, they unloaded her and began to wheel her back into surgery, though only after she had made is crystal clear that she didn't want a plastic surgeon working on her face. She had gotten looks—looks of disgust, of encouragement, of respect—but she ignored them and instead focused on holding Harvey's hand. She finally let go when the anesthesia kicked in. Harvey returned to the waiting room, where he found Babs and Gordon waiting for him, worried expressions on their faces.

"How is she?" Babs demanded.

"They took her back to surgery. She lost a lot of blood, but she should be fine. They're going to do the best they can with her face, but she won't allow a plastic surgeon," he answered, his voice matter-of-fact. Gordon couldn't keep the look of shock off his face at hearing Harvey's words.

"Why?" he asked.

"She's trying to prove a point. She says that she isn't, but she's trying to prove, in her words, "scars do not a monster make." So she's not allowing a plastic surgeon. She's going to live with that scar for the rest of her life to prove a point."

"Don't wound so surprised," Babs said. "She wasn't lying when she said that she would wear that scar with pride. Elena is a survivor, just like you are. She understands that the scars you think are ugly are really badges of courage. Those scars tell exactly what you two have been through, and she's not afraid to let people know that. She's a strong woman, and scars aren't going to affect her."

He knew this. He knew that the real reason he was upset was because that scar was going to be a reminder of how he hadn't been able to protect her. But then, she didn't want him to protect her from the bad things in life—she was capable of doing that on her own. What Doc wanted was someone to experience life with, someone who would walk through it side-by-side with her. And he could—would—do that.

"Yeah. I know. I just hate that it happened this way." Harvey sat down heavily in a chair, followed shortly by Babs and Gordon. As people passed, Harvey saw a range of reactions from them. He saw horror on the face of a young woman, pity on the face of an older man, recognition on the face of one of the doctors, a smile from a young child. These were the looks that Doc would soon get, looks that she was willing to deal with for the rest of her life…for him.

Time passed—an hour, two hours—and Harvey couldn't sit anymore. He stood and began pacing the length of the room, waiting to hear something about Doc. Gordon was standing in the corner, trying to organize and verify the facts. He talked to the medical examiner, trying to confirm that it was the Joker lying on the slab in the morgue. There was no ID on the body, and the prints turned up clean all the databases they had run them through. All the clothing he had been wearing was custom made, his pockets filled with knives and lint. It was him.

As soon as they confirmed that it was the Joker, Gordon set to organizing a press conference. The Joker had terrified the people of Gotham for too long, and they deserved to know that he was dead. There would be questions, and he wouldn't be able to answer them all. They were going to want answer s from Elena, especially after they learned of just how involved she was in all of it. He cringed at the thought of having to ask Elena to do the press conference. There would be time for that later.

"Press conference?" Harvey asked.

"Yeah. The public deserves answers, and the press is going to have questions…"

"They're going to want Doc," Babs said, cutting to the chase.

"She's in surgery right now. There's no way—"

"Family of Elena Connelly?" a doctor called from across the room. They were across the room in the blink of an eye. "She came through surgery just fine. We had to give her some blood, but it's nothing to be alarmed about. Facial wounds tend to bleed more than others. She is going to have a bit of a scar. I did the best I could to repair the damage, but I'm not a plastic surgeon. Would you like to see her?"

"Yes, please," Harvey answered. They followed the doctor down the hallway to a small room where Elena was asleep in the bed. There were stitches in her face, making the a startling black line against the paleness of her skin. But she was alive. Harvey could see her chest rising and falling, and was comforted. He lightly kissed her forehead and took her hand in his. She began to stir a moment later.

"Harvey?" Her voice was rough and husky.

"It's me. Babs and Jim are here, too. How do you feel?"

"Sleepy." They laughed quietly.

"I know. You go back to sleep, then, okay? We're going to sit here with you. Is that okay? Jim is organizing a press conference. Is that going to bother you?"

"Press conference about the Joker?" she asked. Harvey nodded. "They'll have question about how…questions for me…"

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to. There's plenty of time after you've recovered," Harvey told her gently.

"No," she said, her voice determined. "I want to tell my story. I want to talk."

The other three exchanged looks, not entirely surprised that Elena was pushing to speak. The sooner questions were answered, the sooner normalcy would return. The sooner she answered questions, the less people would think that she was trying to hide anything. The sooner this was resolved, the sooner she would be able to go out in public with Harvey without questions. But most of all, she wanted the public to know that they didn't have to fear the Joker anymore. She wanted the citizens of Gotham to know that they didn't have to be afraid. That they could stand up. Gordon smiled.

"Then you will talk."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, here is another chapter. I apologize profusely for the delay in posting this. I have been distracted by life (who needs one?) and other fandoms (dodges flying objects), and I'm sorry. Thank you so much for all your support. The next chapter will probably be the last chapter, so thanks for reading/reviewing/alerting/favoriting. Please review!


	15. Let Them Eat Cake

After a few hours and nearly a dozen phone calls, the press conference was set for three o'clock in the afternoon the next day. This would allow plenty of time for the anesthesia to work its way out of Elena's system. Of course, she would be on painkillers, but they wouldn't make her nearly as foggy as the anesthesia had. It would be just enough to take the edge off so that she could stand before the press and the people of Gotham and answer their questions.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait just a bit longer? You just came out of surgery a few hours ago," Harvey said, despite the fact that he already knew the answer. She was determined to talk to the press, to put on her best face for the people of Gotham, to show them all that they didn't have to be afraid anymore.

"Harvey, I have to do this," she answered quietly. "And very carefully, apparently. If I'm not careful, I'll tear my stitches."

"Which is why it would be better if we waited just a little bit longer to do this. You could let Gordon give a statement to the media and then you give an interview once you're slightly more recovered."

"I'm doing this tomorrow, and that's that. Now, are you going to help me prepare or what?"

Despite his worry, he couldn't stop himself from smiling down at the woman he loved. Her strength and determination were something that had drawn him to her in the first place, so it wasn't like he could fault for being that way. If he hadn't been so worried about her, he would have realized how funny it was that she was scolding him, but having a loved one in the hospital has a tendency to wither one's sense of humor.

However, she hadn't seemed to lose hers. As they ran over her story—slightly doctored so that the whole of Gotham wouldn't know about Harvey's slight case of a murder spree—she was bright and happy. Because of the muscle damage and stitches in her face, she couldn't really smile with her mouth, but he could see that playful grin in her eyes and knew that she would charm the press and the rest of the city.

She was still clearly exhausted as she tried to finish rehearsing with Harvey and Babs. Gordon sat to the side and watched as Elena grew more and more tired. And it seemed that the more exhausted she got, the harder she was pushing herself to get things right. Finally, she was getting too frustrated and Gordon was afraid she would tear her stitches.

"Elena, it's time to go to sleep now. You can wake up in the morning to prepare, but the more you fight sleep, the more upset and frustrated you're going to get. You know this. You're a psychiatrist—"

"Just because I'm a psychiatrist doesn't mean that I'm thinking like on all the time," she grumbled. But she knew that he was right. So finally, she closed her eyes and let her painkiller take her into sleep. Harvey stayed seated at her side, holding her hand.

"Jim, how do you think the press is going to take this?" he finally asked.

"They're going to love her. She can be charming up there, and with that scar on her face, the press is going to sympathize. And they're going to put her on a pedestal. She's going to become the tiny woman who took down the biggest villain that Gotham has ever seen. They'll have no choice but to love her," he said.

Gordon didn't really have to think about his answer. He knew that Harvey and Elena were worrying about press fallout over nothing. With the way things were going in Gotham as of late, the people needed something good and hopeful to cling to. And now Elena was going to give it to them.

But the anxious expression on Harvey's face wasn't fading. Babs wasn't sure if it was because he was worried about Elena's health or if it was because he was worried about Gotham's acceptance of them. Or maybe it was both. Hell, at this stage, it seemed like Harvey was worrying about anything and everything that could go wrong. Babs gave her uncle a look, one of those very telling looks that said, "I'm about to need a moment, so you should go." He nodded and left.

"Harvey, you fell in love with Elena, right?" she asked him.

He stared at her like she had just asked the stupidest question he had ever heard in his life. "Yeah. Clearly."

"And you didn't want to. I remember. At first, you wanted to hate her. You wanted to hate the whole damn world because you got hurt. But despite the fact that you wanted to hate her, you couldn't. You saw the goodness in our girl here, and you feel in love anyway. And that's what's going to happen with Gotham tomorrow. They're going to see what a kick-ass woman you've landed, and they're going to love her too. So stop worrying about it, and stop worrying about her. She's going to be fine."

He stared at Babs for a minute before asking, "You been rehearsing that long?"

"Only the past hour or so."

"It's not bad."

Babs grinned and knew that she had won. "Thanks. Now lay down on that cot over there and go to sleep. You look exhausted."

Knowing that she and Gordon were going to be there to look after them, he did just that. What seemed like just minutes later, someone was shaking him awake. Gordon. Great.

"Wake up, Harvey. You've got to rise and shine and get ready to face the day."

After wiping the sleep from his eyes, Harvey saw that Elena was already out of bed—much to the consternation of her nurse—trying to get dressed. Soon, the doctor was in the room, fussing over Elena, who was ignoring them. She very calmly pulled the IV out of her arm and slipped into a suit as the doctor tried to talk some sense into her.

"Doctor, I know what you're saying to me. But I need to do this. You can give me a Vicodin, and I'll be fine. As soon as the press conference is over, I'll come back if you want me to, but I need to do this," she said through her clenched teeth. It made everything she was saying sound so angry, but they all knew that it was because of the stitches in her face.

"Dr. Connelly, you have to know that what you're doing goes against medical advice," the doctor told her.

"I know. But I'll be fine. Give whatever it is you need me to sign, tell me what you want me to do after this, and I'll do it. Just let me out of this hospital to go to this press conference."

Finally, he consented and handed her a clipboard full of paperwork. Piece by piece, she went through and signed what she needed to sign. Finally, when he left, she turned to Harvey. He was smiling as he studied her. She was clearly exasperated with hoops she was jumping through to get out, but she was smiling. Well, it was a crooked semi-smile because she couldn't use half of the muscles in her face, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"Good morning," she whispered, leaning in to him and resting her head on his chest.

"Good morning to you. Ready for your big day?" he asked teasingly, trying to keep his own mind off his nervousness.

"As ready as I'm going to be. If things go too badly, I'll just pull out good old Mal here." She grinned and pulled her pistol out of the back of her pencil skirt. Harvey couldn't resist a laugh.

"You know you're not supposed to carry in a hospital, right?"

"After what we've been through, I think they'll make an exception."

"Damn right they will. I, however, cannot make an exception about person hygiene standards and let you go in public smelling like that. Go home, take a shower. I'll see you at the press conference," she tells him, squeezing him in a hug.

"I can't…Last time I met you there, you got kidnapped. Let me pick you up," he asked, his voice almost pleading. She nods, then reconsiders and shakes her head.

"We'll pick you up. I'll finish up here and then we'll come by to get you."

He kissed her gently on the mouth, and without knowing it, his lips conformed to the new shape of hers. One side of her mouth would always be slightly droopy because of the nerve damage, but it was alright. Already his body was making adjustments for hers. Besides, her droopy mouth was pretty cute.

"Please be careful," she whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And with that, he slipped out of the room and into the car waiting to take him home. It may have been one of the quickest showers he had ever taken. Then he was pulling on his suit—a blue shirt, because it made you look more honest—and started pacing in the living room, waiting for Doc to arrive. She was going to be fine—he knew this—but after what had happened last time, he just didn't want to take any chances. None at all.

So when there was a knock on his door, he had it open before the knocker could even finish. And there was Doc standing on his front porch looking remarkable in the brown and green outfit that he had told her not to wear to their first press conference. He grinned as he recognized it. Yes, she would stand out, and in the best way possible. When she stepped into his arms, there was a sense of relief, though not totally considering that they were about to go and put themselves in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation.

"Are you ready?" she asked. He didn't even have to answer. He took her hand in his and led her to the waiting car, where they settled into the back seat. He spent the car ride holding her in his arms, as if to remind himself that she was still here and safe and alive and whole. She was here. She was safe. She was alive and happy. And he would keep her that way. And if he failed, well, she always had Mal.

"Alright, here we go," she whispered, stepping out into the waiting throng of people.

Cameras were flashing, but she pushed through the people to make her way to where she was supposed to be sitting. Gordon was calming the crowd and gathering them, making sure they were in their proper seats. Finally, Harvey stepped forward to introduce Doc.

"I'm sure that all of you have heard the rumors of the Joker's death, and I am able to confirm to you that this is true," he began. The crowd went nuts with questions, but he silenced them with a simple raised hand. "But this isn't my story to tell. It's someone else's. This story belongs to Dr. Elena Connelly. Dr. Connelly is one of the leading psychiatrists in Gotham and was responsible for helping me recover after what the Joker did to me. And since it is her story, she is here to tell it to you."

There was unsure applause as Elena takes the stage behind the podium. Several looks of disgust and confusion and horror crossed their faces as they saw the twisted line of stitches on her side of her face. But that wasn't what Harvey saw. In her earth tones, she does stand out against the others, who are a sea of blue and black and grey. She's a bright spot of color in their dreary press conference world.

"Hello. As Mr. Dent already told you, I'm Dr. Elena Connelly. I'm supposed to tell you this story, and I guess to do that, I should start at the beginning. I should start by telling you that I had the privilege of treating Harvey Dent. I've met a wide variety of people in my years of practicing, but none have been quite like him. He was angry and bitter, and who could blame him? I can't, and I won't, because the Joker took someone from him. He took something precious.

"But the Joker did that to all of us, to all the people of Gotham. He took away our ability to trust one another. He took away our sense of security. You and I all know that Gotham can be pretty rough; we have our fair share of crime and we know it. But the Joker was committing crime for the sake of creating chaos and disordering our world. And in the process, he took away our ability to have faith in each other and for a better future.

"Two mornings ago, while Harvey was giving his statement, the Joker took something from me. He took me from the car I was riding in and held me captive in an abandoned church in the Narrows. He took the lives of so many of the people who had been protecting me. He took the lives of good men. He took away my sense of security. He took away my decent complexion. But what was important was that somehow, he couldn't take away my hope that somehow, someone was going to help me.

"And in the end, someone did. Commissioner Gordon and Harvey Dent and all of the great people in Gotham PD found me. And when they did, they also found that we had a reason to hope again. They found that they had beaten the Joker, that he would not rule over us with fear and chaos any longer. They took that fear away.

"Basically, what I'm telling you is that we have a reason to hope now, Gotham. I've seen it. We have good men and women leading us." As she spoke, she looked at Harvey and smiled—an action not unnoticed by the throng of reporters. "We have a reason to hope that Gotham can be a city on a hill, a shining example for others. We have a reason to have faith in people again, because we're being led by people who have faith in us. What I'm saying is, Gotham can be whole now."

As she finished speaking, applause spread slowly through the crowd. It started with Harvey standing alone at the front of the room, and gradually is spread. Then there was another—a security guard at the back. Then a young reporter with stars in his eyes. One by one they stood until the whole room was on their feet.

Gradually, they began to quiet down and Elena opened the floor for questions. Immediately, dozens of hands shot into the air and she began to answer them all, one by one. There were lots of questions that she was proud to answer. What exactly happened to your face? You believe this city can be saved; are you going to run for office?

But then an older graying reporter asked his question. "Your face is scarred, Dr. Connelly, and so is Mr. Dent's. It seems interesting that two of Gotham's leading citizens have been so disfigured. What do you think of that?"

"I think that we should wear them with pride, because they mark us as survivors. The Joker's scarred face terrorized us for too long, and it's time that everyone knows that scars do not a monster make. We're taking them back, so to speak. Now they stand for justice, for doing the right thing."

Then the young reporter with stars in his eyes asked his question. "You worked closely with Mr. Dent, and he clearly respects you for that. What do you think of him?"

She glanced at Harvey and he nodded a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Okay, he was saying. Spill the beans; tell them everything.

"I think that Harvey Dent is a great man. He's an honest man who fights for what he believes is right. He's determined and pretty much one of the strongest men I've ever met, and I'm glad to call him the man that I love."

She had expected the room to explode, but it didn't. Instead, they all fell into shocked silence. Harvey took the opportunity to step up to the podium and get a few words in.

"What Doc isn't telling you is that she's pretty amazing, too. She was strong in the face of fear and death, when most of us would be panicking. She's smart—one of the smartest people I know. She's hardworking, and she's helped us handle one of the biggest threats this city has ever seen. And," he said, dropping to one knee. "I'm hoping that soon I will be able to call her my wife."

That's when the room exploded. Cameras were flashing, questions flying, people shouting and tripping over each other trying to get a picture. And the papers the next day would all have a picture of a beautiful scar-faced woman smiling and nodding yes to the charming scar-faced man. They would have a picture of them kissing, of Harvey holding her in his arms. But what they didn't capture were the words between the two lovers.

"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. God, yes," she whispered, pulling him to his feet.

"I don't have the ring on me."

"Do I look like I care?" Tears were spilling down her cheeks as she kissed him. His arms were around her, holding her tight, and they were in their own little world for at least a minute, until the reporters pulled them out of it again.

"You know they'll want to be at the wedding," Elena whispered.

"They can come," he answered, too happy to care. He would let homeless Joe Blow come to the wedding, as long as she would have him.

"What are we going to do with them?" she asked playfully. The glint in her eyes told him that she had some ideas.

"I don't care. Not as long as you marry me. Why, what did you have in mind?"

"Cake, of course. We let them eat cake."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, here is the end of the Harvey/Elena story. It has been a long time coming and I am so sorry for making all of you wait so long for it. Thank you to those of you who reviewed and gave me the support and energy to keep going. Hopefully, you find the ending satisfying. Please, please review! It's the final chapter, so I won't ask you to do it again! Well...assuming you don't read any of my other stories. =) Please? Review?


End file.
